


Limitless

by Cyrelia_J



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Reality, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bisexual Male Character, Crossdressing, Dark, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Explicit Language, F/M, Genderfuck, Hypnotism, Intrigue, M/M, Mental Instability, Mind Control, Mind Games, Oral Sex, Other, Out of Character, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 95,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian Bashir wasn't undamaged by his genetic enhancements- he was just far better at hiding it. The Lethean's attack is the catalyst for the old darkness to resurface and Julian decides to play a dangerous game with one Elim Garak. Julian's ambitions are far more than he can handle but will he realize it before it's too late? Garak/Bashir with side bits of Bashir/Leeta and others. Alternate Reality diverging from 3x18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a rather dark "what if" exploring the idea of a Dr. Bashir who wasn't quite so fortunate with the surgery for his genetic enhancements as he was in the show. I wanted to take a look at serious psychological inner conflict delving into mental illness. A warning for violence, sex, language, OOCness, and serious psychological problems. I'm writing this as an alternate reality but still following the same events as the series. Starts tame getting way more explicit as we go. Main pairing is Garak/Bashir with a few side smatterings of Julian Bashir/other men/women. C&C is always welcome especially if my science and other canon is totally awful. Thanks!

_The promenade is empty. That’s the first thing that Doctor Julian Bashir notices when he opens his eyes. The second thing he notices is the complete and utter silence._

_“Hello?!” The memory of the Lethean’s attack is still fresh in his mind as he walks towards Quark’s Bar. He steels himself, expecting to see the Ferengi cowering behind the bar beneath a violent assault. Julian swallows with those hesitant steps but forces himself to enter. There’s no noise, no disruption, nothing but quiet. The bottles behind the bar are neatly in place- every facet of the bar is photographically perfect. Julian looks up and counts the fasteners on the ceiling of the farthest sector. They’re exactly as he recalls they should be. He frowns; even_ _his_ _dreams lack this level of precision._

_‘But if this isn’t a dream then the alternative is far worse…’_

_“Hello?!” He yells as loudly as he can and doesn’t register an accompanying thrum in his throat even as his ears replicate the sound exactly as he imagines it should be. ‘I’m not dreaming… but this can’t be reality as I know it either.’ Reliving his last route, Julian walks to the security office. The steps echo but his feet still don't quite feel the floor properly. He thinks that his palms ought to be sweaty as he imagines Garak somehow waiting there once again. 'But that wasn't really Garak now, was it?' There’s no moisture and seemingly no need for respiration either. It only makes the questions grow exponentially in his mind. Julian's pulse accelerates- at least he thinks that it does- as he nears the security office. His footsteps seem to grow louder and yet his body feels exactly the same: static. Julian sees as he reaches the doorway that the office is as deserted as the rest of the station seems to be. He can’t help the way his eyes measure the dimensions of the opening._

_‘Stop it.’_

_Julian forces his attention away. ‘It’s unnatural. It’s suspicious. All of it.’ He frowns as he steps through the doorway almost expecting some otherworldly presence. He senses nothing._

_“Nothing?” Julian’s head jerks up abruptly as he hears his own voice speaking to him. No, that’s not_ _his_ _voice. ‘It can’t be…’_

_“Is that what I am now?” He looks past the main security office, back to the holding cells in the brig and against every instinct he has, he walks back. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’s locked away. All of_ _that_ _is still locked away.’ But he needs to be sure. Julian approaches the last cell almost holding his breath. It’s empty. “It’s funny._ _You_ _calling_ _me_ _nothing.” Julian whirls as the voice is suddenly behind him and as ready as he’s told himself he would be in this situation he still takes a step back._

_“How did you get out?” A mad part of him thinks as he looks at the figure in front of him how terribly cliché it is that the darker twin must always have some sort of facial hair- his other self seems equally amused._

_“You were looking for_ _him_ _, weren’t you?” the other Julian asks with a playful grin as he stalks closer. Julian takes a deep breath but holds his ground as he meets that look of lazy seduction with a level stare._

_“How. Did you get out?” he asks again firmly. He doesn’t retreat. He doesn’t cower. Still, he cannot help but flinch when the other Julian’s fingers brush the side of his face. That head cocks to the side, long bangs falling over his face in a manner that he himself would never allow- that and the damn ridiculous Dorian Grey beard. There’s a ghost of a memory just then of the depilatory etching over skin- of his own eyes looking into the mirror with cold confidence and he shoves it away. Julian turns his head from the touch and steps back._

_“And I suppose this is where I ask another question that you in turn will ignore and the pattern will continue unto infinity or until I finally kill myself of bloody boredom.”_

_“You don’t belong out here.” Julian’s eyes shift to the holding cells._

_“When you consider,_ _doctor_ _,” emphasized with predictable disdain, “That I am nothing more than a physical manifestation... say a personification of what you would term your ‘less desirable traits’ I don’t in fact ‘belong’ anywhere.” He crosses his arms and toys with a lock of hair not even looking at him. The coquettish gesture makes Julian anxious and he steps forward making to grab that wrist down._

_“Would you stop that,” he hisses as if someone might see. His other self easily dances out of the way._

_“Super human reflexes, remember? I_ _am_ _genetically flawless, after all.” That smile is mocking and Julian looks down at his own hand wondering why he was unable to catch a creature who should be his perfect equal._

_The shadow Julian laughs in front of him. Again his eyes dart to the nearest holding cell._

_"You could do it too, you know- if you weren't so afraid."_

_"Afraid?"_

_"Of your potential._ _My_ _potential. What I am and what you should be."_

_“What you are,” Julian fires back with a frightening recollection, “is nothing more than a morally bankrupt monster.” He shakes his head feeling his heart beating faster as the memories flood his head as if they were truly his own. “_ _You_ _are a mistake.  An aberration.” His face feels flush with anger and he feels more real than he has since he first opened his eyes. “_ _You_ _are..._ _were_ _one wrong step away from the Institution and_ _I_ _am Doctor Julian Bashir- a respected Starfleet doctor and I will_ _never_ _go back to being you!” This has to stop. ‘I have to make this stop.’ Julian rushes to the nearest holding cell desperate to open the door. The console feels like a plastic prop beneath his fingers and as he slams his palm against it in frustration it falls and clatters to the ground with a hollow sound. He looks up sharply feeling the other behind him._

_“It won’t work for you.” The playfulness is gone and Julian recognizes the practiced expression of menace and looks away. ‘It used to feel good, didn’t it, Julian. You liked it when they forced you to turn that look on. You_ _loved_ _reminding them that you were the one in control- that you were...’_

_“Open the door!” Julian yells turning around furiously._

_“You never even checked the cells,_ _doctor_ _.” The words are spoken with disdain. “You never checked the security office. You never checked the monitors. You never even_ _thought_ _to make sure that ickle Jules was locked away in his nasty cage.” Those hands- those damn hands are on him again. Hands which should hold reverence for the lives them beneath them. Hands which should comfort and heal. ‘This isn’t you, Julian. These aren’t your damn hands, Julian. Lock him back up, Julian! Lock Jules back up!’_

_“That’s right, poppet, take the key and lock him up.” Julian shoves Jules away and runs to the next cell trying once again to open the door._

_“The Lethean did far more damage than you let yourself realize, doctor.” Jules circles him idly and as he watches him out of the corner of his eye he recognizes the familiar expression, the disdainful face, that rotten… familiar face that he used to see in the mirror. ‘You don’t see that face any more when you look in the mirror... you don’t... you don’t_ _want_ _to see that face, Julian.’_

_“That’s right then. Go on and have a good look, doctor.” ‘Don’t look. Damn you, Julian if you ever had a brain in that head of yours.’ Julian looks. He drops his hands from the console and doesn’t realize that his palms are bruised, that his fingers are swollen._

_“Do you really think...” Julian doesn’t see those dark cunning eyes. “...that anyone wants to see you?” He won’t feel that white hot invulnerability. Jules takes another step closer to him. “Do you really think...” He will_ _not_ _possess that innate sense of godliness ever again. “…that Elim Garak would ever want you as you are now?” But that bring him up short._

_“We don’t have those sorts of desires!” His eyes are wide and the denial passes his lips without hesitation._

_“_ _You_ _don’t have those sorts of desires, doctor.”_

_“They’re a liability. You know that as well as I do there are certain parameters of deviance that attract attention-“_

_“-and to step outside of them would invite attention that I can ill afford.” Jules finishes the sentence seeming to be far too close even five feet away. “Those aren’t your words, doctor. They’re mine. Nearly eleven years to the day I spoke those words when I-“_

_“When I-“ Julian swallows and closes his eyes. ‘I’m a good man. I’m an honorable man. I’m not you anymore. I don’t_ _need_ _to be you anymore.’_

_“But you want to.” Jules answers his every thought as if they’re spoken aloud. “Oh but they don’t want anyone in Starfleet who doesn’t fit the mold.” Jules hisses at him violently, angrily. “Your passion, your intellect, your genius… bugger all that. Who cares about all that when you have the nerve… the audacity… the fucking_ _stones_ _to freely express yourself… to freely love your fellow men and women and demand they see you for the god that you are. You are not an individual, Jules, you are part of the Starfleet collective and if you want to see the stars and change the world and be the goddamn savior of mankind you need to_ _conform_ _.”_

_“They want good, clean,_ _law abiding_ _men and women to be the face of the Federation, Jules. I believe that’s what the recruiter told you though perhaps not in so many words.” Julian turns just in time to see Odo step through the door of the brig._

_“Is that what it says there, Constable?” Jules looks at the datapad in Odo’s hand calculating, and it almost feels as if he’s the one speaking. “Then I guess the doctor and I don’t really need to rehash that tired old story, do we?” Julian touches his lips just to reassure himself that he’s been silent the entire time._

_“You know what it says, Jules. Doctor, I would suggest you leave this to me.”_

_“I don’t… are you sure that’s wise?” Julian hesitates. He looks back and forth between the both of them uncertainly._

_“Is this the best you can do!?” Jules’ voice booms, and it seems to Julian that the walls shake. “No wonder the bloody Lethean almost killed you!” That voice overwhelms him and he can feel his legs start to buckle. Julian catches himself on the wall only then noticing that his hands are bleeding. Odo steps between the two of them._

_“The console won’t work for you, Jules”_

_“Is that so?” Jules approaches them both confidently, stopping in front of Odo with a smirk. “Go ahead. Read the file. Read every damn line of it because I know what it says better than you do. And more importantly_ _I_ _know what it doesn’t say.”_

_“Go!”_

_“I…”_

_“Not good enough!” Julian doesn't react quickly enough but then again perhaps he never could. He feels the pull out of time and watches Jules moving effortlessly in that span. It's never worked that way in reality. Only his thoughts are ever so quick- only his mind works with such rapid motions in the blink of a second. 'That's it then. This isn't a dream or some altered reality. It's just like that attack.' It's the deepest part of his own conscious. He opens his mouth to scream- to warn even a fabricated Odo but even as he does there's nothing but a splash of warm liquid over him. Julian sinks to his knees covering his face, closing his eyes, shutting everything out for just long enough to try and_ _think_ _. ‘Snap out of it. This isn’t you. Get up! Open your eyes! Julian!’ He can’t breathe. He can’t move. He can’t stand and he can’t-_

_Jules is holding him. He feels his chest constricting as he struggles for breath._

_"Get away from me!"_

_“Look at me.” The devil whispers in his head and it’s only as he feels himself falling into darkness that he finally opens his eyes and tries to break free._

_"Get off me!"_

_"I said-"_

_"Stop it!"_

_The security office is gone. The Promenade is gone. Jules too, is gone. Julian stands up and lowers his hands. They're clean. He looks at his arms and feels his face and hair. Everything is dry. He sees the Starfleet uniform pressed, pristine, and smiles. Right then. It's all gone. It's all-_

_"Doctor!" He hears Garak's voice and realizes that he's in his old bedroom. He sees Kukalaka on the bed and thinks somewhat clinically that this must be the last safe place of his mind. Before the treatments, before the sense of wrongness, before Jules. He hears Garak's voice again and he can't quite remember why he's there. "I can't very well speak with you through the door." 'Right, the door.' Julian walks over and puts a hand on the knob still trying to remember why he's back in his room._

_"This can't wait Garak?"_

_"No, I'm afraid the matter is rather urgent, doctor." Julian shakes his head and opens the door. Well of course Garak wouldn’t bother him unless it was something important._

_He doesn't see Garak and tries to shut the door back again.  But as soon as the door is open the memories flood him. Jules. Saint Julian. God. Garak. Everything._

_"No." He tries again to shut the door more frantically but he can feel his joints growing more stiff and sluggish. 'Don't do this.' The world is stone. "Please!" Julian tries to close his eyes as the lights flicker out around him. He can't move. 'You can't do this!' His eyes are frozen. He opens his mouth again but it too has turned to marble. ‘It’s not real, Julian. Wake up.' He tries the door again but this time his hand stops on the knob. 'You’re just dreaming wake up! This isn’t real, Julian!’ He tries to turn and run. His knees are locked. His legs are heavy and somehow he can feel the weight of his own body heavy like a collapsing star as he crashes to the ground. He can’t even look up at Jules standing above him, his eyes only staring ahead at the two bare feet in front of him._

_“You’re right of course.” Jules’ footsteps start to slowly fade away as he enters the room. Even so, his voice resonates in the emptiness of the eternal tomb. “This isn't real." Julian sees Kukalaka placed beside him and feels the bear's soft fur brush his face. "_ _You’re_ _not real, after all.” The light starts to go out around him. "But don't be afraid of the darkness, doctor." One by one the lights fade until there's only a faint glow casting shadows in the endless darkness. “You were never real to begin with."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I do like to throw in a lot of random references from other places. I couldn’t help but borrow Ogden Salsbury from Dean Koontz’s "Night Chills". Also forgot to mention in the last part the title was completely inspired by the song “Limitless” by Pushmonkey. C&C is always welcome. Thanks for reading!

  _The briefing had been underway for nearly an hour. Commander Sisko, after a well-earned rest, had given a thorough accounting of his time in the mirror universe to the senior officers. After debating the merits of pursuing the technology necessary to open the dimension again it was Lieutenant Jadzia Dax who at last turned the conversation to the topic of their mirror universe counterparts. Dr. Julian Bashir sat back in his chair throughout the entire affair looking distant, his eyes darting repeatedly around the room seeming to measure every bit of it for future reference. His hand twitched every now and then as if desiring to fidget with some unseen object. Julian offered little in the way of conversation- had offered little in the way of contribution at all- even as his own counterpart’s escapades were brought to the forefront of the discussion. No one had chosen to comment on it until Commander Sisko looked at him at last with a querying expression._

_“You’ve been unusually quiet today, doctor.”_

_To this Julian raised his eyes, the expression which crossed his face flickering with uncharacteristic irritation for just a moment. He blinked at the question, face going almost completely blank. His eyes darted quickly to the rest of the senior officers before he looked back up at Commander Sisko still remaining seated lazily reclined in the chair._

_“My apologies, Commander.” Julian smiled; it bordered on simpering. “I assure you, you have always had my full attention.” Chief O’Brien sitting to his right looked momentarily confused by the expression; Julian took immediate notice. He dimmed the grin as he caught the disapproval and stretched his back with a sigh. Captain Sisko raised an eyebrow at the dismissive body language but gave no censure. “All I can offer is that your description of my counterpart sounds bloody dreadful.”_

_If Commander Sisko was at all nonplussed by the response he gave no indication of it._

_“Oh I’m sure somewhere beneath the insufferably combative exterior lurked a heart of gold.” Julian snorted at that._

_“I think I’ll save my benevolence for those who actually deserve it.” He had everyone’s attention now; everyone was looking at him with concern. Julian met their stares with a look of challenge that dared them to question the statement or his actions._

_“Are you feeling okay, Julian?” It was Miles who asked and Julian turned to look at the Chief. He seemed about to say something, that irritation once more flickering across his face so quickly its existence was questionable. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned forward resting arms on the table giving somewhere between a sigh and a yawn. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m afraid I’ve been out of sorts these last few weeks.”_

_There was a pregnant pause as those in the room remembered the Lethean’s near fatal attack with sympathy. Julian watched the lot of them discreetly as if confirming something._

_“Well,” Jadzia’s voice interrupted the quiet moment. As everyone looked at her she seemed to be radiating amusement from some private joke. “Maybe there’s a little bit of our mirror selves in all of us.”_

_Major Kira seemed horrified at the thought of sharing anything at all with the intendant._

_“Speak for yourself!”_

_“Yes Lieutenant,” Julian parroted with a soft sleepy chuckle. “Speak for yourself.”_

 

“Dr. Ogden Salsbury, convicted star date 6169.2 of mass torture, murder, crimes against humanity…” He trails off with another tap of the keypad. “…His research to be completely expunged from Starfleet, purged from Federation databases, erased from the very annals of human history itself.” Dr. Julian Bashir stares intently at the brain mapping on screen; the dim lighting of the infirmary after hours gives his eyes an almost alien glow. He smiles as he turns his attention to the chemical simulation of the pharmaceutical compound on the adjacent screen and taps a few more keys. “Until today, that is.” He initializes the program and watches the neural activity on the screen almost forgetting to breathe as the 3 dimensional rendering rotates to reflect the different synaptic sectors of the model in front of him. _But now… is it going to stimulate the correct neural pathways for the desired affect…?_  

3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate was the drug which began the process but it is now ending with a combination of Sodium Amytal and…

“Fuck!” Julian catches the slip in the silence of the room. _Of course no one heard you there’s no one but you in here at this hour._ Reassured, he stares at the screen again. It isn’t enough. Somehow the different memory partitions in the Cardassian brain are still eluding him. Julian takes a step back and swears again at the doctor’s ridiculously short haircut and lifts a newly acquired silver chain from under his uniform twining it around his fingers. _Alright, think. You can do this. This is_ _nothing_ _. This is shite you can do in your sleep. It’s just a matter of refocusing and getting rid of all the cobwebs from the last decade…_ Julian brings up dosage D and marks it as a failure. The effect is almost perfect but it isn’t there yet.

 _They said that the night chills resulting from Salsbury’s compound were the first clue that something wasn’t right._ Julian snorts at that as he crosses his arms and refocuses dropping the chain back beneath his shirt. 

“Yes, of course, the night chills.” He speaks out loud now. He’s alone. Odo has run off on that fool’s errand with Garak and no one else in the Security office cares enough to check the monitors- barring any incidents, that is. Julian scoffs as he walks the length of the small office stretching his legs. “Every other glaring sign of complete mental subjugation, every signal of post-traumatic stress, unknown emotional distress, inexplicable physical trauma…  And the worthless tits calling themselves “doctor” couldn’t even _begin_ to piece anything together until a few school children complained of being cold.” 

 _But it does leave a clear indicator of what will be the most obvious sign._ Julian licks his lips thinking of perhaps a better approach to the problem. Chills in humans could be managed and possibly mitigated altogether. _Humans have a higher adaptability where temperature is concerned, after all._ Temperature distortion could even be dealt with but a Cardassian’s endocrine system... 

“It’s already too cold here, isn’t it, Garak? And I know how you hate the cold…No, I won’t do that to you. It would be unnecessarily cruel and I am nothing if not a merciful god.” He laughs softly walking away from the screen with a toss of his head.

‘You are nothing if not a madman with a god complex.’ 

Julian stops with a small smirk. 

“I was wondering when you were finally going to show yourself again, doctor,” he says out loud.

‘You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.’

‘Pity, that.’ His hand is stilled but he isn’t concerned. ‘Let go.’ 

‘You’re not just going to shove me aside so that you can play havoc with innocent people. You are **not** going mockery of my very existence: spit in the face of everything of yours that I’ve worked to overcome.’ Julian takes back control as easily as breathing, flexing the hand looking at his palm thoughtfully as he flexes the fingers. 

‘That wasn’t very nice.’ He can feel the hopelessness, the frustration, and he shuts his eyes briefly.

 “You were there, doctor.” He whispers, the darkness of his mind stretching out before his shuttered vision. “You were there when I held the lot of them in thrall- when they worshipped me like a _god_. You were there when they-“

‘I was there when you brainwashed a bunch of high school children into-’

“Hush!” Julian shakes his head, snapping his eyes open. “I don’t need you anymore.” He runs fingers through his hair and looks at the screen again. Those long fingers twist as if they can pull the strands longer by force of will alone. _But I can fix that soon enough. Soon enough I’ll have it all back._ He needs his old body back. He’s grown soft, indolent, and far too prosaic for the man who one day thought he would be the next Khan Noonien Singh. _No, better than that. Because I will succeed where-_

The beep of the monitor draws Julian’s attention back to the task at hand. The body temperature of the subject is dropping and the side effects are still far too severe. The percentage will have to be dropped to less than 2 percent in order to be satisfactory. Julian is taking far too great a chance as it stands. Salsbury’s original formula was far too unpolished for the subject in question; brilliant but sloppy. He ‘tsks’ and brings up another variation of the formula. _Of course that impotent old tosser didn’t have to muck around with Cardassian physiology either_. _But that should pose little obstacle for my abilities._  

‘Modest, aren’t we?’Julian scowls, tempted to shove the doctor back into his dark little cell 

‘I would think, _doctor_ , that dinner the other night would have reminded you... No of course not. Not you- not bloody “Saint Jules”.’

 _‘_ Don’t call me that. That’s nothing but some twisted caricature you invented to feed your ego.’ 

‘And **you** are nothing but that caricature brought to life; a miserable waste of potential who is far too unworthy to be made into a real boy. But that is, after all, why _I_ am back in control.’

Julian brings up formulation 27-A using Stelazine this time. _I should have a world by now, an_ _empire_ ** _._** _Not this ridiculous “frontier medicine” that he’s..._ The screen changes and he thinks as he watches the simulation that there isn’t a terribly great distance from biomolecular augmentation to a little neurological manipulation. 

“So Cardassians cannot be hypnotized, Elim Garak? _You_ would never fall for such petty human mental trickery?” Julian sharpens his focus as he watches the screen. He doesn’t have a lot of time before Nurse Jabara comes on shift. They’re all so terribly worried about him of course but he can ill afford to be inconvenienced by their petty feelings. “And the lot of you are no different than any other of the unremarkable chattel I’ve been forced to rely on... Perhaps not Jadzia but that is one I don’t have time to… Focusss, Jules.” Julian speaks to himself softly as he administers 5mg to the mockup his face frozen in concentration as the colors begin to alter. “Salsbury, like Freud believed the subconscious was the dominant aspect of the mind. He believed the id and the ego could be subverted, believed it to the degree that he apparently made a miracle of modern science in a Federation science lab in the middle of nowhere and if a third rate career sycophant can do it…” 

 _Body temperature holding steady… brain activity receptive, synaptic processes successfully subverted…_   Julian can’t help but feel almost giddy as the heart rate and respiration remain stable. “And if a third rate career sycophant can do it- If, Dr. Julian Bashir, underachiever extraordinaire can match that much… Then _I_ surely can take it to the next level entirely.” 

‘And you can risk everything I’ve worked for so far for a wager that exists only in your own mind.’ 

“And why is that, doctor? That’s the question we should be asking ourselves. Why am I ‘risking everything’ as you so dramatically put it just to prove what I’m sure you’d term a ridiculous point?” He tilts his head to the side indulging in another old habit with a languid blink of his eyes. “Because Jules Bashir- our Six Million Dollar Man- is a far greater adversary than Mr. Garak gives him credit for. Because up until now out itinerant hero has only allowed you to see what he wishes for you to see and the gauntlet was thrown and now…” Julian watches the program finish with a wide grin splitting his face as the computer informs him of success. “Now it’s time to sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.”

He hits enter with a small chuckle and begins the preparations for the synthesis. _Yes, good old frontier medicine… where Dust is acquired as easily as dirt… and Ferengi bar owners don’t ask any unnecessary questions if you throw enough incentive their way._ Julian triple checks the heat stability and tries to remember the temperature of Garak’s quarters. The chocolate might not melt but there’s no need to take any unnecessary chances. … _Incentive and favors and an alibi should Odo ask questions when he returns with one Mr. Garak._

 _“_ So you want me to take that rod and eat it, do you? No, the only one of us who’ll be “eating it” as it were…”  Julian checks the clock as he takes the takes the syringe now full of the clear liquid and begins injecting the dark chocolate truffles with care. 

“But of course I’m no madman, Garak. Only a naive Federation doctor with genetically enhanced intellect and perhaps far too much time on his hands...” He sets the chocolate down careful to keep the dosages exact. “You shouldn’t have run off to join Tain’s pointless little war and left me here all by my lonesome.” He fills another with equal precision. “It’s so terribly… _boring_ here without you…” Julian continues until he’s reached the last one- enough for a month’s supply and quickly disposes of the syringe and clears the history on the replicator. “But I think you’ll find-.” Leaving his gloves on, he carefully wraps each of the candies in the pretty gold foil making sure to hold to the original creases. “-that I’m far more than even _you_ can handle.”

This is the easy part of course. The music is where the real challenge lies. Salsbury had used images but that will never work. _The auditory versus optical response from the brain will be far different but…_ Julian runs his fingers over the box top affectionately. _But with muted Cardassian hearing it’s a far better gamble to mask the secondary subliminal layer with sound._ And then there are Garak’s eyes…  _No, those eyes won’t miss a trick now, will they?_ He turns back to the monitor, quickly shutting down the simulations and letting the data catalogue and file in the Cathedral of his mind. Julian yawns as he glances at the clock just in time to make his exit before anyone realizes he was ever here. _Hurry back, Garak. We need to pick up where we left off._ He walks out feeling renewed energy, whistling “Secret Agent Man” as the doors close behind him.

 

 _“Harry Houdini, you are under arrest.” The name passed from Odo’s mouth without the barest trace of irony and Julian, sitting in Quark’s bar with one Elim Garak two weeks before the present, watched as the caped man was subsequently arrested for theft. This left standing in the center of the room a Bajoran woman still speaking in fluent Cardassian. The volunteer- who Julian was beginning to suspect was not in fact just a plant- had let the hypnotist know that she’d spent her childhood in a resettlement camp. She’d heard Cardassian spoken and even spoke some herself until she was eleven but couldn’t recall a word of that “spoonhead” language today even under threat of torture. Julian had watched with interest and noted that his dinner companion seemed less than impressed with the entire performance. The performer_ cum _pickpocket was urged by Odo to bring the woman out of her trance before being led out unceremoniously out of Quarks._

_“Never a dull moment, is there?” Julian smiled blandly, boringly, still testing the waters where Garak was concerned. Garak glanced back over Julian’s shoulder to where Quark was presumably protesting his innocence in the entire matter._

_“There are certainly worse ways to spend an evening.” It was not quite the agreement he’d been seeking._

_“I suppose when one compares it to say a drunken Cardassian hurling invectives at the patrons it is a touch dull.” Right then. The hell with this feeling out rot. Julian was already beginning to tire of the ridiculous doctor charade. He watched as Garak blinked at him momentarily silent at the remark. Julian looked at him with a silent challenge, just daring him to ask the same asinine question that everyone else had been inflicting upon him since the attack._

_“It has been my observation, doctor, that humans find the most vulgar things to be absolutely fascinating.” Garak was unwavering as he met Julian’s stare projecting his usual air of benign superiority; he had no idea how the doctor suffered it without comment._

_“Surely you’re not talking about the performance tonight as well,” Julian scoffed. Garak shrugged, giving that evasive look off to the side._

_“It was a most… enlightening experience.”_

_“But?”_

_“Well I can’t speak for Federation scientists, but the role of what you call ‘hypnosis’ has very limited practical application in our society… perhaps it merely alludes to the weakness of the human mind.” Garak took a forkful of spaghetti carbonara as if parrying a fencing thrust and Julian watched him for a moment wondering how much affront to let show through._

_“This is quite good; you said it’s a dish not often eaten regularly on Earth?” Julian allowed himself to be diverted for the moment by Garak’s question._

_“It’s rather indulgent for daily consumption… And don’t think I’m going to let you slide by with that.” He didn’t smile but he let the amusement intermingle with just a hint of defensiveness and his mind flashed the ratios of emotion like a chemical composition. Julian wondered at times if this was what it felt like to be an artificial life form. He considered his response, just for a moment. “Perhaps the lack of uses for what has been known for generations to be a useful took in behavioral therapy merely demonstrates a profound lack of cultural imagination.” Julian raised his teacup, taking a long drink so that Garak might make his next point._

_“Imagination, contrary to what is popularly touted amongst less evolved cultures is highly subjective, my dear. I assure you, that you will find most Cardassians to have boundless imagination where it counts.” Garak smiled in a way that caught Julian off guard and caused him to nearly choke on his tea._

_“Are you feeling alright, doctor?” It was the same question he’d anticipated earlier but hardly in the same context. Julian felt his face heat up- in fury where doubtless the doctor would have been embarrassed- and he nodded, forcing himself to stay calm._

_“Too sweet.” Julian ignored Garak’s curious look at the statement. The doctor remarked smugly in his head that he’d bitten off more than he could handle. ‘Let me be the judge of that then.’_

_“You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Garak.” Julian offered glancing up briefly then dropping his eyes in a manner that he considered especially flirtatious. There was no rise to the bait but he didn’t expect it. He checked off another small test of the other’s carefully constructed persona; clearly the doctor wasn’t expected to engage in such gestures with other men. “After all, you do have the knowledge of a certain cloak and dagger lifestyle that the rest of us aren’t privy to.”_

_“More cloak than dagger, I assure you. I_ _am_ _but a simple tailor, after all.” There was the response as expected. Garak was a “simple” nothing as far as he was concerned but any other response would have been dreadfully off. Julian picked up his eating pace at about the time it would be expected and shook his head._

 _Garak whether intentionally of not continued speaking rather boastfully that even a simple tailor would not be so neatly manipulated by simple human chicanery and Julian unconsciously paused in that way he couldn’t help when he had to consider a challenge. ‘Eat faster, Jules. You’re a human who has a biological imperative to feast when there’s no famine and the doctor has already foolishly set the precedent.’ The damn doctor had set up_ _hundreds_ _of the small affectations that he would have to maintain for the time being. It was nothing with his ability to quickly process through data and recall but the_ _tedium_ _… ‘It’s just another subroutine, right, Jules? It’s all in a day’s work for Dr. Julian Bashir version 2.0 beta…’ Well bollocks to that, he was about to go mad from it all._

_Julian ignored the doctor informing him that he was free to leave at any time if he didn’t find the accommodations suitable. He licked the last of the mashed potatoes from his spoon._

_“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” he said with a final mouthing of his lips to the back of the smooth metal._

_“Doctor,” Garak was back to bland condescension. “If a Vulcan cannot hope to pierce the veil of the Cardassian mind, I’m afraid there’s little hope for anyone else.” ‘And that includes me, is that what I’m to gather from that?’ Julian considered his words. ‘Is that so, Garak?’ he thought feeling that heat rising once more._

_‘Don’t...’_

_‘I wasn’t asking_ _you_ _now, was I?’ He caught Garak commenting on their races’ affinity for eating the eggs of other species for just a moment._

_‘Whatever you’re thinking...’ Julian found his mind wandering once more._

_‘Shut it! He wouldn’t say these things so arrogantly if he knew who he was...’_

_‘You don’t think so? Perhaps you don’t know Garak as well as you think you do.’ Julian’s hand was too still on the fork dipping into the chocolate cake and he forced motion cursing the doctor for his untimely interruption._

_‘I’ll know him better than you ever managed, you can be assured of_ _that_ **_._ ** _’_

 _‘He’ll destroy you. Whatever you think you know-‘ He was holding the fork too tight. He needed to correct it but that defiance, that_ _mockery_ _, that-_

_“Is that a challenge, Garak?” He shoved the doctor aside and gave the tines of the fork a teasing swipe with his tongue. It was yet another reckless, unscripted affectation but he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. Julian shifted his foot underneath him and almost breathed and audible sigh at the familiar feeling. “Need I remind you that I destroyed you rather neatly a few weeks ago?” He smiled drawing in that brilliant darkness and there might have been just another hint of surprise on Garak’s face but let him be surprised. Let him stand in awe and wonder. Julian leaned in letting the tines trail down the side of his face in place of idle hands as Garak too drew nearer. “I don’t think you’d find me that easy.” Quiet. Deadly. Everything they used to be afraid of._

_“You defeated the incarnation of me that your mind had devised but I assure you doctor in a real game you would not find yourself so victorious.” There was a smug raise of those eye ridges that made him boil, ready to stand up, throw the gauntlet down, and destroy everything just like he used to. Between his own anger and the doctor’s screaming in his damn head he almost gave in but Julian forced the calm back, thinking if the doctor’s experience was good for anything it was the calm that he could bring when he desperately needed it._

_“You don’t think terribly much of me do you?” Julian made certain that the laugh was suitably light, suitably airy, suitably bloody Julian Bashir and he thoroughly ignored the pulse red behind his eyes willing it to go away as he laughed of the tension._

_“I think you’re the very model of Federation light and goodness, doctor.” Julian was unable to tell if there was mockery there but it seemed to him as there might be a subtle mocking emphasis on the word “doctor”. “But in the real world, light does not always triumph over darkness.”_

_Julian looked at him soberly as the doctor laughed almost maddeningly inside his head._

_“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”_

 

“I know it isn’t your birthday but I received a rather large souvenir today and I thought I’d share in the temptation.” Julian smiles as he takes his seat and sets the box of dark chocolate truffles between them.

“Ah, such mixed signals from you, Doctor. Exercise program in your left hand, sweets in your right. Are you trying to increase business to the infirmary?” He accepts the box nonetheless and sets it aside. He doesn’t miss Julian’s eyes following the box for a fraction of a second longer than they ought to and adds it to the doctor’s growing list of oddities.

“I assure you, Garak, if the results of your last physical are anything to go by you won’t be requiring my services again for a good long while. You’re in remarkable shape for a…” 

He resettles himself on the chair lifting his eyes up in a manner that Garak imagines must set most women’s hearts aflutter. It piques Garak’s curiosity to see that look aimed at him. _So then I wasn’t imagining it weeks ago, was I?_ At the same time he considers the box in a far more devious context that the flirtatious subtext would call for _. And here I didn’t think you had that sort of duplicity in you. But it’s just a tad too sudden, doctor._ “…tailor.” Julian says the word with seemingly every bit of amusement he can muster. 

“A product of simple living more than my chosen profession,” comes the easy parry.

“A profession still up for debate I’d say... Perhaps I ought to hypnotize the truth out of you.” Julian teases him with a mystical wiggle of his fingers. Garak’s eyes flicker between the digits and the Idanian spice pudding in front of him cataloguing the gesture as he answers with nothing but a small amused smile.

“But actually,” Julian is rather pleased with himself and allows a similar expression to appear on his own face. “I’d taken the time to enjoy your present this past weekend.” He watches those eye ridges raise in surprise and makes a subtle return gesture in kind.

‘He probably thinks you’re lying.’

‘Oh but the good doctor would never lie about such a thing, would he?’

“I’m afraid I was rather distracted by the...” He pauses as if fishing for a word waiting, slowly counting down to emphasize exactly where he needs the conversation to go. “Well, the soundtrack for lack of a better word.” He drinks his tea and lets Garak consider. _Lead into the mirror slowly. And then guide him like a poor blind child..._

“Soundtrack, doctor?”

“The music I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a holonovel that makes such use of well... in a film we’d say a soundtrack. But it wasn’t an orchestral suite or just ambiance like a lot of programs run but I could _feel_ it.” He leans in intently for emphasis waiting to see if Garak will mirror him.

Julian isn’t disappointed as Garak leans in just the slightest amount and as he explains the vibrato and bass calibrated to create an almost second heartbeat during scenes of heightened intensity. Julian sits back and takes care to once more eat with his own usual starving animal’s pace and slowly, ever so slowly shifts his posture when he asks about Cardassian music on the whole. He subtly picks up his tea at the same time that Garak does the glass of rokassa juice.

“Really, doctor,” Garak says setting his drink down and Julian’s eyes catch the subtle preemptive movements of muscle which allow for a near seamless mirror this time. “There is no amount of description which would do Cardassian music true justice.” Julian nods, looks off at the other patrons briefly as if considering the words. _Go on then. Make the proposal already._ Julian’s body language betrays no impatience even as he does mental paces inside of his head. He can almost feel the god forsaken doctor laughing at him.

Garak takes that moment to study him almost delighted at the turn lunch is taking. _You want something, doctor. It’s so plain on your face, so plain with your little human tricks. You want it so badly you’re actually tempting me to give it to you._ Garak has a hunch of course- he wasn’t lying when he told Julian the reverence Cardassians held for experience.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever really heard any sort of Cardassian music before. To hear Major Kira tell the lot of you entertain yourselves with the screams of dying Bajorans.” Another small head tilt as Garak listens amused- another perfect mirror. 

“A worthy symphony to be sure, but far from the best that the greatest Cardassian composers have to offer.”

“Is that a fact?” It’s painfully obvious, of course. But the clear fact that he’s trying to manipulate Garak into initiating the proposal all the more curious. _And Tain always said your curiosity would lead to no good end in our profession._ But Tain is no longer here and Garak has precious little left to anchor him save his memories.

“It seems almost a shame,” Garak says at last with a sense of self gratifying theatric, “that during our entire acquaintance we’ve never had an opportunity for a greater cultural exchange than literature.” He sits back thoughtfully and watches Julian do the same. _I wonder if I dropped my fork, doctor, would you ape that as well?_ More than that gesture however is the unconscious ghost of a smile there reinforcing the good behavior. _My what naughty little tricks you have, my dear._

 _It’s almost a disappointment that you aren’t proving to be more of a challenge, Mr. Garak._ Julian reminds himself not to remain too still when Garak plays perfectly into his cues. But neither can he draw his leg up to his chest and indulge unabashedly and he curses the doctor’s insufferably staid body language. 

“I’m surprised you’d miss an opportunity to lord superior Cardassian culture over my head,” he murmurs only just barely aborting the hand rising to toy with his hair.

“I do have my more charitable moments, doctor. But perhaps my equanimity has been a disservice to you after all and for that, I shall see to your further education.” He considers what to offer Julian and in turn observes at the very least a feigned contemplation from the doctor as well. _Well played._ But he waits and takes another spoonful of pudding trusting his hunch that Julian must have a particular motivation and finds his answer soon enough.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of the earth music played around the station since the Federation took control of the station.” Julian looks almost wicked cradling the tea cup with both hands having dropped the mimicry entirely. “But I’m equally certain you’ve never heard the more shall we say... subversive music that we consider not particularly palatable for foreign ears.” _Or human ears as well if our mother is anything to go by... My mother... the doctor’s mother... the damn woman is somebody’s bloody mother._ He notes Garak’s interest and lets a few careful drops of genuine excitement filter in. “A lot of the electronic popular music has been carefully marketed and tested to produce the most pleasing and relaxing sound. Music executives spend God only knows how much money into those sorts of things. For a time it was almost impossible for say a good old fashioned garage band to make any real money. But even at the height of synthetic and electronic movement, there have always been those continuing the true sound of metal, of industrial, real hard rock.” He remembers the few live concerts he’d attended on Earth. _Overlay the true emotions with the false ones, Jules. You want to make it good for him now, don’t you?_

“Well, anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that I have a few recordings that predate a lot of the current earth compositions and really are what I would consider the foundation of a lot of modern music.” _Hint of truth._ “As long as you aren’t afraid of any back masking.” He says it joking and confirms to himself that Garak doesn’t register any recognition of the term.

“Back masking, doctor?” Garak asks with an appropriate amount of interest taking another slow spoonful of pudding.

“It’s quite fascinating, really. In the 20th century the earliest media were recorded on vinyl records- flat discs made of polvinyl chloride pressed with a spiral modulated groove to reproduce audio. A needle would then run along the groove transmitting the sound to an amplifier. Not very practical but...” He shrugs. “But it allowed for- as some accused- a hidden message to be encoded onto the media which would be revealed if the recording were to be played backwards. There are also some amongst that same group who even believed those messages could compel the listener to all sorts of degenerate behaviors.” Another sip of tea as that digests. 

“You seem quite enthusiastic about the subject.” Garak makes the remark as almost an afterthought as he takes another languid spoonful. Julian does not allow himself to go still or to fidget. He plays the next move very carefully and feels the possibilities fed through his mind rapidly discarded in quick succession. The entire process takes no longer than a nanosecond. _Subject change. Divulge personal information of an anecdotal nature._ The cue puts him back into focus and he can feel the calm settle back over him. Of course. Subtle segue it is.

“Well it’s a fascinating proposal, don’t you think?” But that’s a rhetorical question and he doesn’t allow Garak to answer before regarding the chocolates as if they were the most important thing in the room. _Be composed- distant, the face of one reminiscing._ “When I was a child living on Inverna II my father gave me a box of Swiss chocolates that a colleague had procured for him.” _Though considering the sorts of men who the old man tended to keep on friendly terms with the bugger probably stole it off the back of a freighter somewhere_. “On Earth, Switzerland is rather renowned for its chocolate. So much so in fact,” -eye contact, rueful smile- “that my parents would only let me eat one piece of chocolate every Friday night as a treat. I suppose they thought that might make me appreciate things. Savor them if you will.” He regards his already eaten sandwich in perfect conclusion. “You see how well that worked out.”

Garak allows himself to be distracted but he makes another note of Julian’s behavior. He wonders if the good doctor has always been so calculating. He has always been in Garak’s mind a far more suspicious character than Garak would ever consider himself just by his very nature- too neat and pat in a little naive young doctor package. But today he’s just a little too perfect. He’s too… in character as some might even say. Garak smiles from behind a glass. 

“Is that how I should eat these then?” he asks noting the small symbol stamped on the corner of the box. There comes that flicker again. That same look of a subject right before he perfects his lie at the eye of the interrogation and believes he’s won. Garak waits for confirmation and it comes exactly as expected. 

“If you don’t find the notion too silly.” Julian ducks his head with just the right amount of self-deprecation and just in time to hide the self-congratulatory smugness that’s quick enough anyone else would think it was all imagination. _Charming I’m sure, but I’m not one of your conquests doctor. Although you seem to be acting as if you believe you have in fact conquered something_. Garak makes sure to give a conciliatory smile as he agrees to the idea and the doctor does well to hide his excitement as he asks if he may sample the first now. _Well it isn’t likely to be poisoned in any case._ If Julian had assassination as his goal as the chief medical officer on board he’d hardly have to resort to poisoning a box of chocolates to rid himself of one Cardassian tailor. That automatic suspicion discarded he decides to merely follow along with the game and lets the confection melt on his tongue. 

The lettering on the box is alien to him and he lets the doctor’s voice of soft explanation wash over him as he savors the small round piece. The chocolate is slow to melt but when it does it creates a thick coating of delicate bitterness with a hint of fruity sweetness: cherry, is he recalls his human fruits correctly. He lets the chocolate roll over his tongue, considers the viscosity and he thinks perhaps Julian is more culturally astute than he gave him credit for to find something the Cardassian would enjoy so greatly. He shuts his eyes, feels almost disoriented and will let himself deconstruct the layering of memories later for the doctor’s talk of composition, origin, and a thousand other things he’s sure he’ll find fascinating in the quiet of his own quarters. Because the shell has almost completely melted and a sweeter, creamier inside marries the fading bitterness and Garak wonders if Julian was telling him the truth or if he’d spent what seems to be a tidy sum of money to procure a delicacy of this quality. He can almost forget, he can almost let his guard down and linger in that moment as the chocolate slides down his throat.

Until the moment it hits him that is. _And this, dear doctor, is why I never trust anyone, no matter the circumstances, no matter how charming their boyish smile or how many morally superior Federation speeches they may give._ But far from disappointed, Julian only rises in his estimation when he feels the almost undetectable chemical residue on the back of his throat. It has a faint numbing quality nearly perfectly masked by the richness of the filling and complexity of the outer chocolate shell and it passes almost as quickly as he identifies it. He already knows he’ll have to invest time and possibly resources into studying it but as he opens his eyes, the infernal brightness of the room impinging upon his senses like an unpleasant second sun, he finds that thought can wait just a moment longer. He shakes his head- even slightly disoriented he never allows himself to falter- and he simply smiles at Julian. 

“Well, doctor, I can see why one should only eat one of these a day.”

Julian allows for a self-satisfied expression. It remains in character and he laughs. He likes that particular laugh. It affects just the right amount of warmth- amusement without being cruel- and a little bit of truth for good measure.

“I was afraid I might have to put my medical training to some use if you hadn’t opened your eyes when you had, Garak.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow. “Perhaps tomorrow you might eat one in the privacy of your own quarters where you’ll be able to savor it properly.” _And perhaps in the not too distant future you might allow me to join you without the aid of several bottles of kanar._ Of course he will. He won’t have a choice, after all. _Isn’t that right, doctor?_ There is silence, of course. The stupid simple doctor lacks the imagination to pursue such a richly dark liaison.Garak raises his glass as if in toast giving him the same placid smile he has time and time again. _Enjoy it while it lasts, Garak._

“Perhaps I shall.” _Check_.

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading. This chapter got very long and is definitely getting down the darker road. More characters will be appearing in later chapters and the plot thickens so to speak. There is going to be some Julian and Leeta as well here and in upcoming chapters. Also couldn't resist throwing in another line from "A Clockwork Orange." C&C is always welcome!

_The hair fell back in his eyes and Dr. Julian Bashir blew it away with an annoyed toss of his head. The atmosphere in Quarks buzzed around him and he studiously ignored it studying the datapad._

_“Excuse me.” His eyes shifted to the side clearly having difficulty seeing through the curtain of bangs. Still, he didn’t turn his head until the second time the voice more insistently asked for his attention. Julian looked up then, assessing the newcomer as he set the datapad down. “You’re Doctor Bashir, aren’t you?” He appeared amused at the question._

_“Some would say so.” His eyes were distant for a moment and the red haired woman took another step with obvious hesitation._

_“I’m Leeta. I’ve been meaning to come by the infirmary to see you.”_

_“Have you now?” Julian smiled and Leeta coughed twice as he watched her with a raised eyebrow._

_“Yes, it is a disease that plagues us all, isn’t it?” He spoke the query softly to himself as if again sharing some sort of inside joke._

_“Doctor?” She blinked at him not quite understand and Julian stood up at last laughing softly._

_“Oh you mustn’t mind me. I haven’t been well myself, you see.” He gave another chuckle at this. “They all keep asking if I’m alright...” He stood up straighter as if donning a new suit in the mirror and closed the small gap of space between them. “But I’ve never been better, actually.” His voice was soft- husky- and Leeta shivered as he caught her eyes with a vivid intensity and leaned in._

_She looked surprised as he brought his face within inches of hers but didn’t step back. Julian tipped his head and touched his index and middle finger to her throat with the tender stroke one would give a kitten. He pressed gently and breathed in the scent of her perfume ignoring the looks he was getting from the other patrons. From behind the counter Quark began discreetly initiating a new series of bets once again centered around the doctor’s increasingly erratic behavior. The odds were three to one that he would earn himself a slap._

_“Your pulse is fluttering like a little bird,” Julian whispered feeling her shiver against him. Leeta’s hands came up to push him away, her expression flushed and overwhelmed. His hands were around her wrists faster than she realized yet at the same time he stepped back, giving her space. Julian let his thumbs rest against the soft skin of her inner wrist but he took careful pains not to be rough keeping his eyes only on her until she looked down._

_“Doctor I-“_

_“Are you afraid of me?” he asked wearing the most wounded of expressions as he set her arms gently down. “But how am I ever to heal you darling if you don’t trust me?” Julian brushed the side of her face with a near reverent touch eying her throat with an unreadable expression. He felt her tension slowly dissipate as he traced the line of her jaw. “That’s a good little lark,”_

_There was a slight sway to her stance as she listened to the particular cadence of his voice. Julian leaned in with another series of whispers undetectable to anyone else present and as he spoke, Leeta’s eyes fell nearly shut. Julian’s hand fell to her shoulder to steady her and he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek,_

_“I’m going to free you from your cage, my little lark. I’m going to give you… everything… you desire… Make you into everything you ought to be…” Julian’s voice was a warm wavelength of sound, soft and melodic like a familiar song.  It was only when he saw Jadzia approaching out of the corner of his eye that lowered his hand with a last lingering caress to her fingers. “Tonight.” Julian turned his head, glancing up in time to see Jadzia frown at him. She had been doing that a lot over the last several weeks. He merely smiled in return as he left Leeta standing there quietly. “Come to my quarters- and you’ll learn how to fly.”_

 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Garak, there was a last minute emergency in the infirmary.” He’s careful not to immediately feel his pocket for the second isolinear rod keeping his anticipation tightly in check. The first had already passed the previous week without a hitch and he can’t afford to be careless. The doctor might gush like a school girl to Garak about whatever stupid thing had his fancy at any given moment but _he_ is not the doctor and he keeps his face neutral as Garak smiles at him. 

“Think nothing of it, doctor, I’d only just gotten here myself.”

‘You don’t need to keep doing this.’

‘As always, doctor, you’re a slave to your ridiculously fabricated morality rather than the reality of your desires.’

‘These are _your_ perverse feelings, not mine.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ 

There’s a pause there and Julian considers how effective such suppression truly had been. After all, if the doctor truly did not desire- ‘This is _wrong_!’ Which not the objection he ought to making right now from Julian’s point of view. Somehow that annoys him.

‘Wrong? Oh no, no doctor it is not _wrong_! To be “wrong” is to be inferior. To be wrong, is to be fallible. And we are neither of those things now, are we?’ And in the span of time it takes him to process, to compartmentalize, to argue with that infuriating dullard he registers only a fraction of a second passing as he set down the plate bearing two scones and the cup of unsweetened Tarkalian Tea.

Julian takes a drink watching as Garak silently watches him. He knows his hair is longer than the time frame would allow for and the but that’s none of Garak’s damn business.

“I must admit, that the composition you’d given me last week wasn’t entirely what I was expecting,” he says at last so Garak will stop that assessing look. The “music” was heart attack inducing. He’d felt like his lungs were going to burst from the reverberation before he was able to lower the volume and the bass. Julian had sworn when his head finally stopped pounding that Garak had done that on purpose.

‘Certainly would have served you right if he had.’ Julian can’t help the way his eyes flicker unconsciously to the side as if the doctor were sitting beside him and not buried inside his mind. He holds back the irritated hiss. ‘Maybe this next one will stun some sense back into-‘

‘Maybe _this_ one will shake you right out of my head, doctor.’ He forces his grip to loosen on the cup before he breaks the damn thing in his anger. 

Garak pretends not to notice anything untoward about Julian’s reaction as he pushes the isolinear rod across the table.

“And that is why, dear doctor, I thought to start you out with something a little more conservative to alien ears.” Unless of course one were a specific type of incorporeal being in which case the specialized recording from one of the science ministry’s less savory divisions could be fatal. “I do hope you weren’t… overwhelmed.” Garak affects a solicitous expression. “I’ve been told by some that the effects on non Cardassian physiology can sometimes be… intense.” Garak observes an interesting shift of Julian’s face and adjusts his suspicions accordingly. He can see the crease of consternation and like before where Julian had displayed an uncharacteristic outburst of anger in Quark’s he can see the telltale tremble of his hand. But just like that it’s gone and replaced by the familiar face of Dr. Julian Bashir. The tension on the cup is completely erased.

“Well if that’s what you call mild perhaps I ought to be afraid of what you have in store for me this week.” Julian breaks off a piece of the scone slipping the small bite into his mouth with unusual indulgence. He’s far more open with these newly acquired mannerisms this week.Garak’s eyes follow the small lick to the tip of Julian’s fingers and there’s a small part of him that’s terribly tempted to damn whatever wants to uncover the mystery and just… enjoy himself. _But I owe you far better than that, doctor. And the game itself is proving to be rather… titillating._ Garak chooses his next words carefully.

“I assure you, my dear, it’s perfectly safe. Cardassian music is woefully unsuited to harboring subliminal messages.” 

The reaction comes almost instantly to the human word inserted deliberately into the conversation. The word is an older human construct and there isn’t any proper equivalent in Cardassian or most other alien languages that Garak’s research indicated. The translator never would have used that word- no it comes straight from Garak himself. The pronunciation might have been incorrect but the effect is telling all the same. Garak watches the hand still midway to breaking off another piece of scone and that flash of the familiar vanishes. Garak begins to wonder if it truly is time to rule out an alien presence in the doctor’s mind as he sees a small tilt of the head one might give when listening to something. Irritation gives way to panic, to fear. The lies rushing over Julian’s face- every infinitesimal tic- clear as day _. You know you’ve never used that word and you know that I suspect your intentions to be less than noble. But the question remains just what_ _are_ _your intentions?_

Julian freezes. _Laugh but don’t overcompensate_ , he tells himself in that quick second. _Don’t go for the cup. Drinking instead of responding would indicate nervousness- guilt. And you have no reason to feel anything untoward about the comment. You’re not that sharp. You don’t pick up on these things. That’s not the doctor, Jules._ Julian laughs just enough as he removes the isolinear rod from his own pocket. The excitement is almost tangible, an excited quickening of his pulse and he’s back on top where he ought to be playing the game perfectly. _Let’s just see how strong your control over your own mind truly is, Elim Garak. The only question remaining then is when and where now, isn’t it?_

“And here I was afraid you were going to hypnotize me into buying a new summer wardrobe.” Julian’s hand is steady as he holds the rod out for Garak to take. 

Julian also makes sure their hands don’t touch as he gives it over not noticing Garak’s eyes observing the precise movement followed by retreat. _If my memory serves, and it always has, you’ve taken great pains to avoid any physical contact at all these past few weeks_. Could it be the incarnation from the mirror universe the doctor spoke of? He watches Julian take another finicky morsel of the pastry. He considers that the hair once more. _No, the mirror would have had those minor differences from the start and if not then he’d be trying to blend in far more._ The mystery intrigues him far more than is healthy. Julian sees him watching and lets his thumb slip just a little bit inside his mouth to clean the jam with more effort than necessary. Garak smiles.

“Much as you might be in dire need of a change in attire, doctor I hold out hope for reason and enlightenment winning out over... utility.”

Julian shakes his head bringing the long standing argument to its usual stalemate with a last catlike lap to the tip of his thumb averting his eyes almost coyly.

“I suppose you’re right then, I don’t give you enough credit for being an optimist after all.” He picks up the isolinear rod Garak placed in the table and looks at it curiously. “You don’t have any special instructions for this one, do you?” 

“Well I would highly advise against mastication.” Garak pockets the rod Julian had handed him and watches him suddenly begin his usual speed eating ritual. _And here there should be that telltale stiffening when you think your dignity has been affronted but no, your entire body posture has changed. Julian Bashir the first is back in full force it would seem._ Garak sips his soup with consideration.

“You’re certainly in a glib mood today,” the doctor- he’s determined at least a ninety eight percent probability that he _is_ speaking with the doctor this time- remarks quickly finishing the scone. Garak shakes his head in response.

“Ah, but things are seldom as they appear, doctor.” he watches for any reaction and sees nothing but Julian as he’s always known sitting in front of him looking with guileless curiosity. “You know how it is in the world of fashion” Garak continues noting the charming look of familiar disappointment. _You should not still be finding him half as attractive as you do._ “The wedding isn’t for another three months but if the dress isn’t properly let out by this evening somehow our two starscrossed lovers might be doomed to death marked love- my words, of course, not the bride’s.” Garak smiles in amusement as he recalls the mother of the bride and the equally charming young miss were not quite so eloquent in their histrionics. 

 _And hello again._ There’s a flash that he sees on Julian’s face- another glimpse of that familiar irritation- and it’s far too intriguing reaction to what was nothing more than innocuous small talk.

“Doctor?”

“Death marked love, you say?” Julian doesn’t meet his eyes, his gaze strangely averted once more as if he’s impatiently listening to something only he can hear. He rests his head on his hand with an interesting tilt, a look of lazy seduction in his eyes that calls to Garak to respond in kind. “Oh surely you’re not going to toss out that little tease and leave me hanging here, are you?” he all but purrs. Of course, Caesar had been the topic of their last debate not any other Shakespearian work and as Garak is learning, Julian the second does not react well to surprises.

“I might have sought out a little extra Shakespeare on the side,” he says offhandedly watching Julian’s eyes blinking thoughtfully. 

But Garak has no intention of giving him time to mull that over. “And shame on you for your callous maligning of Shoggoth. I’ve yet to read the single work of your ‘bard’ that isn’t both completely predictable and utterly devoid of what you humans call ‘common sense’. At least when Erza murdered Dellal in Beneath the Scarlet Moon it was a neat, nearly undetectable affair.”

“Didn’t she dispose of the body by feeding him to his own riding hounds?”

“It is a far more palatable scene than Tamora being stabbed to death in the middle of a dinner party.”

“For a man who referred to Candid as ‘irredeemable pornography’ I find that a little… hard to swallow.” Another half-smile accompanied by a sensual drawl, and Garak can’t help but think that Julian the second wears seduction like an arrogant adolescent. _And you most certainly should not be finding_ _this_ _Julian anything resembling desirable either._ He takes another spoonful of the soup, letting himself become pleasurably distracted as Julian begins to fidget with his hair. _Tain would be terribly disappointed in you._

“Violence, like sex, my dear,” he finds himself saying in answer to the coquettish demeanor, “is an act that all too readily lends itself to obscenity.” As he speaks, he sees Julian pick his head up just a little and that index finger move to toy with the open collar of the jacket. Julian’s eyes are bright as he hangs off his every word. Garak looks at the inviting exposed skin and the intensity of that stare beckons him to let his eyes linger a touch more than he otherwise would out in the open like this. “There is a certain skill one must possess-” Garak doesn’t drop that look for a moment but instead meets it head on “-in order to transform violence into art.” He would have never spoken that way to the Julian Bashir that he’s known for the last three years but in this moment he knows for a fact as those eyes continue to bore into his that the man in front of him is _not_ the same Dr. Julian Bashir.

Garak’s expression grows darker and it makes Julian’s pulse quicken.

“One must be willing to cut away…” Julian licks his lips as that voice caresses his auditory senses and he shifts his leg underneath sliding one hand just below his knee as he curls it under, squeezing, massaging to break that unbearable tension. “To dye…” And the emphasis on the homophone freezes his blood in the most delightful way imaginable. “And of course,” Garak finishes, sitting back looking far too damn satisfied with himself, “-the tinge of justice is one of the most brilliant dyes one can employ for such an undertaking. The Cardassian state being the most expert of artisans.” Julian practically kneads at his leg, keeping the more obvious affectation in check though his fingers ache to twine around the finely spun threads of silver underneath the tunic. _The chains which bind Prometheus for daring to bring fire to man…_

The necessity of restraint makes Julian feel trapped in confines of the damn Starfleet uniform. He wishes they weren’t in this station. He wishes that he wasn’t watching for the fucking doctor or the other officers he’s sure are keeping tabs on him, but most of all he longs to be back in total control. He can’t remember how to breathe and as he looks down feeling the noose tighten around him he knows that Garak still has his eyes on him. _You know what you’re supposed to do, dammit. You’re supposed to rise to the bait and make some allusion to Garak’s shaded past. You’re supposed to keep up this miserable charade until all the pieces are in play and make sure this lot of chattel doesn’t suspect anything more than the after effects of your trauma._ But right now at this table across from Garak it’s all a bunch of pointless shite when they both know full well that this is nothing more than a game and Julian’s mouth remains firmly closed in defiance of expectation. 

Until suddenly it isn’t and his head spins as it’s completely out of his control. 

“You’re missing the point of everything, Garak.” Julian hears himself speak. He feels his mouth moving. It isn’t him that’s speaking. “The point of the tragedies,” of course it’s the doctor, “is to showcase the fatal flaw of the hero leading to his demise.” He almost throws his hands over his mouth to shut the git up. “It’s not to play a five hundred page matching game. If you focus on the violence… if you only focus on the overdone obscenity of flesh and blood… Then you’re not _seeing_ the bigger picture. You’re not seeing the heart of the pieces and there are far more layers to this vessel than you’d think.” He can feel the tightness of his jaw as he fights and he almost thinks his head is about to split open. _Don’t you dare_. “You’re not _seeing_ it, Garak.” But if Garak isn’t, Julian is, and he seethes. “Othello is _driven mad_ with jealousy. King Lear cannot _see_ _past appearances_ because of his arrogance!” Garak is analyzing him curiously and he can feel that anger flooding him. _‘You want him to see you, doctor? Well maybe he isn’t seeing you because he doesn’t_ _want_ _to fucking see you! So sod off, this isn’t your damn body anymore!’_ “If you would just look at-!” 

Julian coughs violently, head thrown over the table eyes flashing dangerously as his nails dig into the side of his neck nearly hard enough to draw blood. _Shuttup, damn you shuttup!_ It’s red. Nothing but deep dark crimson and he feels like his head is about to explode with agitation or that he may even swallow his own tongue but he forces himself to be calm. Julian himself back in control imagining nothing less than the doctor up in flames- immolated and shrieking his death throes- and at last he looks up defiantly. He lowers his hands, hair hiding the dark red half-moons marking the skin.

 Julian’s face feels flush and just as he’s about to take a drink he catches sight of Garak meticulously unwrapping one of the chocolates he’d given him.

“Poison,” Garak remarks as he studies the carefully molded candy, “is another method I’ve never been terribly fond of.” He rolls the truffle around in his palm and Julian wonders if he isn’t being toyed with. “It’s far too imprecise and messy.”  

“Is that in your _personal_ experience, Garak?” Julian snaps wishing he’d stop arsing around and just _eat_ the damn thing before it melts.

“Pycan space moths, doctor,” Garak replies in a tone that is nothing if not baiting, “are not only crippling to any deep space station clothier but they’re notoriously hard to exterminate… and quite hard to detect unless one knows what to look for.” 

“We are not talking about Pycan space moths!” Julian rises, slamming a hand down on the table just as Garak primly pops the chocolate into his mouth. Garak says nothing, only watches in amusement as the warm cacao coats his tongue and the other patrons turn to stare at them. He allows the sweetness of rokassa juice to wash any lingering bitterness from his throat as Julian stammers an apology and sits back down. Garak’s eyes don’t miss the trembling scratch of nails over the table top, and he thinks it’s hasn’t been neatly long enough since anyone has so clearly wished to do commit violence upon his person.

“You might consider moderating your tone, doctor,” he offers watching Julian’s head jerk up in the midst of trying to calm himself down, “lest the other patrons think they’re observing Cardassian courtship at work.” 

Garak doesn’t bother keeping his amusement hidden this time as he watches that fetching look of arrogance turned disbelief on Julian’s face. 

“Unless of course, that was your intention all along in which case I must say I’m flattered but-”

“You...” Garak studies the play of emotions with a detachment borne of years of experience as he continues to remain perfectly steady. Julian clears his throat, and that stunned faltering slowly morphs to a anger blooming like a delicate flower in accelerated time. Julian makes another false start and while his face is flushed it is not with the doctor’s embarrassment but the usurer’s affront. Garak sees him tug furiously at the collar of his uniform nearly scratching the skin and a vision of raking his own nails down the exposure quickly flickers through his thoughts; he files that away for later.

“Believe me, Elim Garak if it was my intention to give you a fucking knob job you’d bloody well know it.”

“Is that so?” Garak asks with mock surprise.

“Yes that is very much so!” Julian doesn’t seem to be able to resist striking the table again and Garak is sure they’ve once more attracted an audience. He lifts his glass very much enjoying the display.

“In that case, might I offer my services in local customs next time you find yourself visiting Cardassia Prime, doctor. Not everyone is as much of a gentleman as I am and I would hate for you to find yourself in a situation you’re… ill equipped to handle.” He punctuates the statement with a rather reptilian flick of his tongue to the sweet juice as he raises the glass high enough to hide the rest of his face.

“Is that so?” Julian’s voice is quiet as he parrots the question carefully watching the rest of the replimat until the majority have decided things aren’t about to get interesting again. It’s too much. Julian can once more hear his own pulse in his head and it drowns anything else. _Thump._ His vision goes red. _Thump._ It’s nothing but brilliant scarlet. _Thumpthump_ And he’s sure Garak is saying something else but it doesn’t matter. _You have no idea..._ _You have no idea just who the hell you’re..._ That pulse intensifies, vision swimming in a sea of scarlet until it looks like a bloodied lens. Julian sees Garak leaning across the table softly speaking with that sickening patronizing concern. _Concern for_ _him_ _, for your fucking patsy but I’m not him and you’re not making a fool out of me._ The doctor is gone- dead and damned to the world or wherever Julian shut him away and it’s nothing but empty blessed silence. _Perfect._  

Julian looks up from dark, almost black eyes with a wicked smile on his face and a nasty playfulness to his countenance. The fingers finally dare to drip below the neckline, toying with the chain as if he’s God about to pass judgment and he leans in catching Garak on the shoulder with his free hand and a small titter of laughter.

“You’re taking the piss out of me again, aren’t you, you Cardie bastard?” Julian’s voice is light, teasing, and he doesn’t let Garak respond to the insult. This is his game now and _he’s_ the one in control. _You think that only you can skirt the shadows, Elim Garak? Why don’t I show you what real power looks like?_ “But you don’t have to answer that, Garak, luv.” Julian laughs softly sliding the chain twined fingers up the side of his face as if deciding where to strike. “In fact, why don’t I let you in on a little secret…” 

Julian licks his lips, the anticipation worth every moment locked away in silence and whatever motivation keeps Garak still he seizes upon it. “I am the key,” He whispers into the charged air between them. Julian dares where even Ogden Salsbury remained hidden on in the darkness. _The darkness may be where stars shine the brightest but I’m no star I’m the god of the fucking sun_. He’s a quasar ready to erupt into brilliance and he holds his breath and waits. He doesn’t fail. Julian never fails. But not even the expectation of triumph can prepare him for the rush of adrenaline seeing Garak blink at him as little more than a glassy eyed doll. 

“I am the lock.” It’s hard to reconcile the automated voice devoid of inflection, of warmth, and Julian frowns petulantly even as he gives that shoulder a squeeze and exults in his control. _I don’t want this damn shell. I don’t want this empty eyed protoform. I was you, alive and aware, and in my thrall as you ought to be._ But this was what he has now. And right now this is all his to command. He drops his hand sitting back regally. 

“Assume your normal posture,” he orders softly so that no one will notice anything amiss. Garak obeys completely. “I don’t have much time, dear Garak,” he says with that superior grin, “and in another few moments you’ll be back and remembering nothing but teasing me about my…“ He has to remind himself to remain steady. “The last thing you recall is teasing me about flirting with you...” He laughs softly out of breath seeing that the eyes no longer watch them so closely without the loud spectacle to keep them entertained. “...teasing me... you’re always teasing me Garak... but this time...” He swallows and shifts both legs under him on the seat. “This time it’s my turn to tease…”

Garak blinks slowly, looking at Julian just as he finishes speaking.

“We are creatures of ego, after all, Garak,” Those are somehow the only words he remembers having lost a portion of the conversation. There is no doubt as to the source- Julian resembles a child who’s just gotten away with something exceptionally naughty. And the time is off. The temperature of his soup has dropped more than even his leisurely eating usually results in. Yes, Julian is definitely the source. _It seems you have another layer to add to the mystery once the sample returns, Elim._ Ha takes another spoonful of soup as if he’s unaware that there’s a difference. There are still two weeks until the analysis of the sample will be ready. _And depending on the results, my dear I might consider charging you for the cost._ An internal check of his vitals- at least to the basest level- doesn’t set off any alarm bells. No, the only thing off about the entire situation is the man sitting across the table from him. Once again Julian is back to being perfectly, painfully ordinary and in spite of his best attempts, even _his_ memory can bring nothing to the forefront. Garak is thoughtful as he answers at last.

“Ego, yes. That would be Caesar’s fatal flaw, I believe.”

 

 

_The light from the datapad was the only illumination in the room but Julian’s eyes easily adjusted to darkness. Naked, he laid on his stomach on his bed, hair lazily pulled back to the nape of his neck. He tapped thoughtfully, considering the next key part of the operation, wondering how he might be able to tie in Dr. Lenz’s impending visit. He had no doubt that he would be able to make use of her once she arrived on the station. Julian was counting down the days and he made sure to note the date. Everything in his mind was a perfect arrangement, the plans carefully vaulted in the Cathedral, back with the maps and other topographical references. It was far safer means of storage. Julian scrolled down, reading off the series of numbers, the cryptographs meaningless to all but him and even then they were little more than a series of cues. His mind was a perfect quiet, working in the silence with a precision he hadn’t felt in-_

_“Julian?”_

_Leeta’s voice, the barest whisper was unbearably loud in the room._

_“It’s late.” He whispered with a kindness he was hardly feeling. “Go back to sleep, darling.” Julian didn’t look up from the datapad as he continued to add a few more codes to the list. He heard the bed shift and felt her hand on his naked back. He’d have to make sure to disabuse her of that presumptuous physical contact. But for now, Julian was careful not to flinch or pull away._

_“It’s late for doctors too,” she teased and he entered a few more codes before turning to look at her. He could see the outline of her body perfectly in the dim lighting. Charming- she was so terribly charming. ‘Doctors perhaps, but those of us born to a higher purpose have little need for such wasteful things as excessive indolence.’ Julian set the datapad down and turned on his side looking up at her while managing to look down at the same time. He doubted she could see him half as well anyway._

_Julian gently disengaged that hand which continued to touch him and rubbed the soft skin of her palm against his face with a perfectly affected sigh of contentment._

_“You’re such a thoughtful little lark but this little lark has a lot of work to do tomorrow, doesn’t she?” He squeezed her hand not unkindly. Leeta’s slight frown was evident, enhanced vision or not. He smoothed away that frown sitting and decided to let her see that he could see her perfectly. “I need my eyes and ears, luv. I need you so terribly you know...” Julian leaned in and allowed his lips to brush the side of her mouth lightly. Tomorrow would begin the test and from there it would be easy to keep her going._

_“It’s not that I don’t believe Jules,” she hastily added and that pleased him. “It’s just… it’s Quark. I swear that little miser doesn’t miss much and I don’t want to lose my-“_

_“And here you said you believe,” he chastised releasing her, pulling away when she put a hand on his shoulder._

_“Jules, I-“_

_“If you cannot have faith in the vision of the Prophets... If you cannot_ _trust_ _in the Emissary... in the word of his highest disciple then how can you possibly say you believe?” Julian’s voice grew louder, infused with a mixture of incredulity and disdain._

_“Don’t question my faith in the Prophets, Jules! I’ve spent my entire life-“_

_“Don’t question?!” He rose from the bed. “Computer, lights.” The lights came on and he saw her temporarily blinded, her nudity, her vulnerability so fucking brilliant he wanted to slide back onto the bed and fuck her again willing or not. “I’m not the one questioning, Leeta,” ‘And how_ _dare_ _you presume to speak to me as an equal.’ “_ _I’m_ _the one speaking for the Prophets. I’m the one blessing you with the vision the Emissary has for a new world, a marriage of all races in harmony and you sit there like a petulant child worried about one Ferengi barkeep!”_

 _Julian was loud but made no movement towards her- no that wasn’t the play he was making right now._ _Leeta was distressed but not to tears and that mettle would certainly serve him well should he takes pains to bend and not break it. She didn’t answer him immediately and he took the time to throw on a robe running frustrated fingers through his still sweat dampened hair. He turned away as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her._

 _“This was a mistake.” He listened carefully and heard faint rustling, heard her shift as if she might rise but she hesitated. “But how... can it possibly…” He spoke to himself making sure it was loud enough for her to hear. “But_ _how_ _could the Prophets have been wrong when they showed me the way?” is voice was pitched to the pinnacle of despair and she seized on that opening as he knew she would._

_“They’re not wrong, Jules!” He allowed himself to turn back around keeping his arms crossed. “It’s me! I...” She looked down after the initial outburst and he could see the tremble of her body as she aborted an instinctive reaction to cover her nakedness. Leeta looked at him every bit of earnest in her eyes and he made sure to shift to his most open and forgiven expression. Benevolence. That was the hallmark of Saint Jules and he closed the robe tighter so she wouldn’t see him getting hard again with the excitement. She mistook the gesture for uncertainty but that only made her more determined to convince him. ‘Poor pitiful Jules, yes darling, you know just what I need to hear now, don’t you?’_

_“The Prophets aren’t wrong Jules,” She repeated firmly. Leeta stood up and Julian’s hands paused on the belt of the robe letting her rest her hands over his. Let her think she was guiding him, after all. “_ _You’re_ _not wrong,” ‘That’s a good girl. Tell me again just how-‘_

_“I’m so terribly sorry Leeta.” He wasn’t sure at first that it was him that spoke but it was and he felt that odd disconnect whenever the damn doctor was trying to reassert himself. But this time he thought it almost might work in his favor if he was able to clean up the damage properly afterwards. “You shouldn’t be here... not like this,” he heard himself say and her stricken expression at the words showed such a different interpretation at that ignorant prat’s guilt. His internal laughter echoed inside whatever chamber he’d been shunted off to as she protested even more fiercely._

_“No Jules, I have to be here!”_

_“Please Leeta just listen to me I don’t have-“_

_“Hey don’t go underestimating me, Jules!” Oh that pang he felt when she called him “Jules”! She squeezed his hands in what she likely thought was reassurance . “I do that enough myself sometimes. We’re in this together, right?” And there was that unwelcoming unasked for touching of his face but staring at the cute little wrinkle of her nose while the doctor continued some mental self-flagellation made it more than excusable. He felt the hopelessness pouring over him in waves and he shrugged it off like molted scales feeling almost giddy as he stomped the bastard back down. Julian leaned in and kissed her lips feeling a rush greater than anything Miles ever procured for him to imbibe._

_“You’re right of course. You... are my most precious little lark, Leeta, the first of many but right now...” Julian promised giving a chaste little kiss to her forehead, “right now you are the one I want to reward the most when the vision comes to pass.” He strokes her hair in an almost fatherly gesture shushing any protest of reward for doing the work of the Prophets. “I want you to have your restaurant. We want you to have all your little dreams and our highest blessings- strength, health, and an eternal life exalted... But we need you, darling.” Leeta looked up at him trusting, so terribly trusting of Dr. Julian Bashir disciple of the Emissary that he felt a wave of nausea bubbling up from the last vestiges of the doctor. “You see what I cannot see, and hear what I cannot hear. Just like a little songbird, my Leeta.” Julian was sure to breathe her name with all the devotion he could muster and his fingers danced down the nape of her neck until she leaned against him._

_“Yes, Jules,” she whispered with an obedience that wasn’t half as strong before._

_‘She doesn’t deserve this.’ He’d grown far better at masking any sign of the other presence and only allowed the smallest shift of his eyes in response to that voice._

_‘She deserves everything that I can give her, doctor. I’ll give her the world, you know that. Anyone who follows me-‘_

_‘-is poisoned! Is irreversibly damaged. Is-‘_

_‘-transformed beyond the meager potential they started with. Surely you don’t think that you’re any different?’_

_‘I am nothing like you. I_ **_help_ ** _people. I_ **_save_ ** _people.’_

_‘Such a terribly noble hero you are, but you’re already too late. This one is mine, doctor. And I don’t intend to stop with her either.’_

_Julian put his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him, as if she were the only one anchoring him to the world. Leeta murmured some more religious nonsense and already he was thinking steps ahead to the next phases of the plan. Quark, Miles, Garak, it all tied together and the end result was-_

_“I’m sorry, Jules.” Such a perfect perfunctory thing to say yet he could tell she actually meant it as she put her head on his shoulder. Yes, he definitely needed to fuck her again._

_“The Prophets don’t need apologies my little lark. They already know what’s in your heart.” He let her go and pressed between her breasts carefully controlling any reaction outward excitement on his part. “I believe in you, Leeta. The Emissary believes in you.”_

_“I won’t let you down, Jules,” she promised. He believed her._

_“I know you won’t darling.” ‘Who says the Prophets are the only gods in the heavens, doctor?’  He licked his lips as he drew that finger up to just under her chin. “Now let me kiss it and make it better.”_

 

Julian glances once again at the datapad in his hand as he toys with the collar of the damn restraining uniform. _Collar indeed, I don’t know how the hell he didn’t go completely barmy._ His afternoon is filled with more routine appointments and nonsense than he thinks he can bear but he’s already counting down the days until he leaves this god forsaken station behind. Julian furrows his brow not hearing but rather _feeling_ the sense of unwelcome coming from the doctor. _I’m winning, damn you. I can’t hear you anymore I can’t…_ But he stops just then as if he’s lost control over his own body and realizes that he’s just shy of Garak’s Clothier’s. 

 _No, you wouldn’t want me to go inside now, would you?_ It is tempting. It is so _very_ tempting… _Twenty nine minutes until the next bloody appointment…_ That’s not enough time- not by half for what he wants to do. “But this is so dreadfully _boring_ …” He gives a quick glance inside and feels every muscle in his neck straining against the action. Julian feels the thoughts again from earlier. Tardiness on his reputation would look- Julian shakes his head. No, not his reputation: the _doctor’s_ **.** And these are not his thoughts but the doctor’s as well. He continues to look over the screen to the empty shop and smiles prettily for the Bolean who brushes past him. 

 _I suppose this is far easier for you than nattering in my ear all day about petty morality and your insipid ethics._ There’s no answer and Julian draws himself up wearing the uniform with far more majesty than it deserves. 

“Oh that’s right. I don’t have a higher nature to appeal to, isn’t that what you would say?” he whispers amused. If nothing but silence greets him it’s replaced with a sense of urgency slamming into him making him pause once more. He’s going to be late. That’s the next thought that enters his mind with far more insistence. _My, you’re such a clever one, aren’t you?_ Julian tamps that back down and steps inside just as the last customer leaves. He schools his expression into that boring solicitous doctor face as almost an afterthought. Even so he knows Garak doesn’t trust him- never trusted the doctor before him either. _And you’ve never had a single reason to distrust me you damn suspicious snake.  Everyone trusts me, Garak,_ _everyone_ _. Three years on this damn station being the perfect patsy to your lies and for what?_ But now isn’t the time for such distraction. He doesn’t want to keep Garak waiting, after all.

Julian, however, does not appear to be aware that Garak has already caught sight of him. The flash of the uniform in the mirror is the first thing that captures his attention as he stands arranging a scarf on the bust of a mannequin. In spite of the pinpricks he feels between his shoulder blades, Garak keeps his back to Julian to give himself enough time to properly survey who it is he’ll be speaking with. Julian’s grip noticeably loosens on the datapad the more he looks around at the people passing through but nevertheless his eyes harbor the signature aloofness of Julian the second. And the longer he lingers the more Garak sees the demeanor and mannerisms vacillate between two seemingly different men. 

 _Yes, you’re coming along quite nicely now, aren’t you? Post- traumatic stress disorder I believe is the story you’ve been carefully circulating._ Garak watches him just a moment longer before turning around with a non-threatening smile of his own.

“Good afternoon, doctor.” He watches Julian smooth that calculating expression into congenial Dr. Bashir as if he were as fluid a being as Odo. Garak hasn’t entirely ruled out _that_ probability either no matter how far-fetched it seems.

“I do hope I’m not imposing too much on your time.” Julian looks at him in the same manner that he always has yet Garak has his suspicions with this encounter. There’s that little overeager lick of lips which follows and it makes Garak’s smile grow even wider. _I suppose it’s time to see what naughty thing you have planned for today, then._

“Not at all, doctor. In fact, I was just getting ready to close up for lunch.” He’s certain that Julian already knew that but far be it for him to disappoint in yet another one of these delightful new games. “Is it Wednesday already?” Garak steps towards him finding it almost laughable how easily Julian swallows the exaggerated exclamation. Julian’s face radiates innocent amusement with a beacon of arrogance shining behind. Garak wonders how Chief O’Brien has been faring with the new and improved doctor since the change. _Surely I cannot be the only one who sees it, after all._ Nonetheless Garak ignores anything untoward and notes the hair is just a little longer still, obscuring a part of Julian’s face in a manner he imagines might be intended to be darkly mysterious. _Perhaps if one were a child easily distracted by theatrics but it does suit this second self of your rather well_. 

“Don’t worry, Garak, your sense of time isn’t slipping it’s just...” Slipping is the perfect word to describe the expression on Julian’s face or if one were to cache it in racquetball terms missing the ball entirely. For one brief moment dark eyes look at him with a raw desperation that’s nearly tangible. It’s not the first time he’s seen that expression in the last few weeks but it is the most obvious and profound. Julian’s lips move not seeming to form any words he can make out and certainly not hear. He attempts to sync the movements with the words he’s learned to recognize over the years but there are many that are still far too alien. 

“Doctor?” Garak doesn’t finish the rest of the sentence and realizes he doesn’t need to when he sees a slow blink, clearing away that passing glimpse of fear. He observes a slow motion of fingers toying with what he’s established is a series of some sort of jewelry beneath the uniform. The tips of Julian’s fingers trace the outline and Julian looks at him with that dark expression that tells him the doctor is very much out. Garak has already sorted through and ruled out numerous other possibilities since their last meeting. Right now every shred of evidence points to nothing but what his eyes say is truth. _But you remember your training, Elim. Eyes always lie and ears can mishear but your instinct is golden_. Especially now that even his memory is suspect.

 _So help me Garak if you ask me if I’m alright..._ Julian watches that assessing reptilian countenance and it makes him seethe. _Damn you._ Damn the doctor and whatever the hell he’s doing because Garak takes a step towards him and Julian freezes again in spite of himself. His hand, his fingertips are still at the collar of his uniform and he can feel the slight tremor as he tries to force the movement finally feeling it break. He shakes his head and brings them to his temple with a small rueful smile.

“My apologies, Garak I’m afraid my head is bothering me today. Just another side effect of the…” He trails off as if it pains him to remember. _But enough of this, Jules, you’re wasting precious time._

“Of course. I understand you’re still suffering the after effects of your ordeal.” And Julian grows tired of the inane small talk, sliding his fingers down the side of his face, tilting his head somewhat dreamily as he imagines, as he takes just a moment to savor that last damn mocking expression before once more diving into darkness. The shop is about as empty as it’s going to get for a through way and he needs to act quickly and discreetly.

“And such a terrible ordeal it is, Mr. Garak but I know just what will be a balm to soothe my poor damaged psyche. I am the key.” And in that moment Garak is frozen. 

“I am the lock.” Julian’s hand is steady as he brushes the side of Garak’s face with a small smirk, the skin smoother against the back of his hand than he would have imagined.

“There was never any doubt of that, darling. But as for locks… Why don’t you lock up for lunch and give us a little more privacy?” He steps back and watches the wordless obedience with a soft hiccup from his throat that’s half giggle. Julian sets the datapad town on a neatly folded shirt and finally pulls the chains from beneath the tunic with a sigh. His fingers deftly twine the silver links around as he crosses an arm over his midsection under his elbow to watch Garak finish politely hussling the last few stragglers out and closing the doors. Let them find another damn way around. Julian feels that perfect clarity upon him as he loosens his body posture into something far more comfortable. The tilt of his head, the narrowing of his eyes. and the nibbling of chains between his teeth is all finally _him_. Julian revels in that heightened sense of awareness, that feeling of being complete and alive in the world and that clarity of existence is as addictive as Garak’s submission. 

“Oh if you could only see yourself Mr. ‘Cardassians cannot be hypnotized...’” But Julian doesn’t allow himself to linger in the main shop. He knows Odo’s damn cameras are crammed into every corner of public space and he doesn’t need to give the walking flan a fucking show. “Go to the dressing room,” Julian orders as soon as Garak is finished, his voice barely above a whisper. He counts to ten before grabbing a tunic that appears to be about his size and follows him making a study of examining the fabric. That sense of anxiety hits him again as he looks to the small open area and it nearly freezes him. He bites his tongue hard until the quickening of his pulse comes from the pain and not whatever mental trickery the doctor is dreaming up. There’s not enough time. There’s never enough damn time and one day he may freeze every moment he desires into a world of ice but for now he contents himself with following Garak into the dressing room and closing the curtain with barely restrained haste.

The tunic is dropped to the floor with little regard.

“Yes, stay there while we get a good look at you, Garak darling.” Julian’s voice drops low and there’s a distance between them that remains as Garak’s eyes stare at him blankly. The chains switch hands as his right now reaches out almost childishly to touch the collar of Garak’s tunic. “Aren’t you a sight then?” Twine, twist- his right hand mirrors the action of his left as he makes a study of Garak’s face. “The doctor…” he confides at last to the automaton in front of him, “is not sexually attracted to men.” Julian’s hand trails down Garak’s shoulder, the soft material rippling beneath his touch as he slides down to the back of Garak’s hand. “It is not... in his...” he stammers and feels his face hot and shakes his head. “not in my... parameters it…” He drops the chains and trains his eyes on the dip at the base of Garak’s throat. “Why are you doing this to me?” Julian closes his eyes, closes his grip around the hand beneath his and nearly breaks at the slack touch at the feeling of someone who isn’t him or isn’t _Jules_ afraid to let go.

His palm is sweaty and he can feel himself try not to hyperventilate as the he opens his eyes finding the walls far too close and the colors far too bright.

“You don’t…” He swallows as his eyes remain trained on the floor. “You don’t even know that it isn’t me... that’s he’s not...” Julian releases Garak’s hand and finally dares to look across at that vacant stare. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway, does it, Garak?” Julian laughs bitterly as he drops his head and wipes his hands on his trousers. “Damn you...” He can feel his body starting to shake and he isn’t sure why he hasn’t brought Garak out of his trance. “I need to stop this… I know I need to stop this but I just can’t…” He runs fingers through his hair and almost gives into the urge to pace. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t be I... God I never meant to... I just...”

 _Right, Julian, and how are you going to explain any of this to him? Sorry, Garak, I just drugged you, raped your mind, lied to you, lied to everyone, took Leeta and... And why? Because I’m a laboratory experiment gone wrong, of course. A right Dr. Jekyll turned to Mr. Hyde and I no, actually I can’t guarantee I can control it or know how to stop him because I’ve been completely barking mad since they mucked up my brain. God I can’t do this..._ Julian feels his knees start to buckle and he locks them, leans against the wall and tries to remember to breathe. _And you know what comes next, Julian, it’s off to the Institute just like father always said would happen if you didn’t stop this madness and_ \- “No... no not now not now... “ It’s not going to help if he passes out. _Don’t pass out, be strong, fight this, dammit fight it you can’t…_. He’s not going to pass out. He’s not going to-

Julian blinks as the room spins and he forces a deep breath, forces all the air he can into his diaphragm as he inhales and bends over letting the excessive energy flow out of him. He doesn’t know why he lost control the way he had. _It’s just an aberration. It won’t happen again.  He’s gone. The doctor is_ _dead_ _and he’s not coming back. It’s all you now, Jules, luv._ Julian huffs as he stands back up. 

“No... it’s not me. It’s _you_ , Elim Garak. It’s your fucking fault the damn doctor can’t stay dead and buried.” He slowly circles Garak with a slight sway to his walk, examining, watching for anything which might betray a deception. His eyes move over Garak’s body and in a thorough affront to dignity- and sod dignity anyway- he squeezes Garak’s ass through the cloth with a soft laugh.

“But he can’t have you. You’re _mine_ ,” Julian declares in a low voice as he walks back in front of him. “If I have to rip every bit of him out of my fucking head with my own two bloody hands I’ll be rid of him.” 

Julian looks past Garak to the mirror as if he might be able to detect a trace of the meddling doctor. He suddenly slaps Garak’s face and sees his unresisting head rock to the side with satisfaction.

“How that now? Surely you didn’t think I was going to let that go? We can’t just have bloody Julian Bashir rearing his nasty ickle head whenever he pleases can we?” Julian laughs a little titter and slaps his face with the other hand this time. “Maybe one to grow on, right?” He slaps him again laughing louder. “Stupid tit, you’re supposed to say ‘Thank you sir, may I have another.’” Julian slaps him again with the back of his hand and another exclamation. “Naughty naughty naughty! You filthy old soomka!” It makes him nearly mad with giddiness when that head goes back and forth like a jack in the box and he almost cannot restrain himself. _But oh if there is blood there’ll be talk and explanations and nonsense. Stop_. 

Julian stops. He’s breathing heavier. His mouth dry, and he wets his lips again excited.

“I could have anything I want from you, darling, can’t I?” His left hand toys with the collar of Garak’s tunic straightening it, letting his fingers brush the warm skin of Garak’s neck. He lets his hand trail, circling that thick neck, shivering when Garak’s body gives a lovely unconscious physiological reaction to the caress of his neck ridges. “Yes, that’s it.” Julian half closes his eyes and cups the back of Garak’s head as if he would kiss a lover, bringing their faces painfully achingly close. He savors the warmth of Garak’s hot breath as he hears the affirmative to the question and with a small tilt of his head he feels the steady exhalations to his face. Julian closes his eyes for however long it takes to let him float and dream. He dreams of imagined Cardassian air and what it will be like to hold an empire of biological perfection with the ex-spy as his slave. _Soon, Jules, soon everything will be within your grasp momentary master of a fraction, of a dot to quote Sagan but it will be the most brilliant dot history has ever seen._

“You cannot lie to me,” he declares opening his eyes and pulling back just enough to see the shadow of hazy gray features sharpen to clearness in his vision. “And yet…” he says dreamily as he strokes Garak’s slicked back hair, “somehow I still don’t believe you.” Julian feels heat- no space remaining between them now as his left hand is trapped to his chest between the two of them, the pads of his fingers lightly- so lightly- sliding up to trace the line of those soft lips. 

“Have you ever told the truth even one day in your miserable life?” Julian asks so quietly he thinks Garak might not hear even him.

“I always tell the truth, doctor.”

The response makes Julian’s heart nearly drop out. There is an inflection. There is an infusion of feeling, of personality that should not _exist_ and he searches desperately, those damning fingers still not leaving Garak’s mouth. 

Even so, even as he tells himself to move back, to be ready to defend himself, as his mind works in rapid succession to fabricate the necessary lies and yet there he stands rooted like some cretin unable to process the most basic of functions. _I don’t want to leave you._ The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome and for a horrified second he doesn’t know to whom the thought even belongs when at last he nearly falls backwards against the wall looking up anxiously. Garak still hasn’t moved and hasn’t said anything further. Julian feels the tension still tight and he frowns. _It’s has to be the layered memory. It has to be the multi-lateral nuances._ He makes a faint noise of irritation and almost slaps him again.

“Yes it’s all true, of course. It’s always true- especially the lies,” he hisses daring to step back into Garak’s personal space, just daring him to come to, to go toe to toe and he feels a hitch in his throat at the insanity of it all. “Of course you’re imagining things, Jules,” he says quietly as he searches those blue eyes for any signs of further cognizance. Julian leans in closer once more as if he would allow their lips to meet in some cloying cliché fashion. “I can tell lies too, Garak.” Julian speaks the words only the barest distance from Garak’s mouth and if he were to tip his head, to move just a little closer-. “Doctor Julian Bashir is a lie, Elim Garak,” Julian says so softly it’s nothing more than breath. “He is nothing but a puppet strung together with subconscious patterns and commands. He is nothing but a fabricated persona and unlike me... he does not himself dream, he does not want, he does not _desire_. But we aren’t talking about the doctor now, are we. It’s only you and me now. And this is _my_ world.”

Julian holds Garak’s face between both hands now with a soft purr to Garak’s lips not quite kissing him. 

He tastes him. Julian flicks his tongue out like a snake sampling the unbearable humidity of the air, the salt of another’s skin, and he gently, with such solicitious delicacy laps at those closed lips. His fingers rest on the warm cheeks of that face which remains frozen. Julian licks the corner of Garak’s mouth and tastes just a faint hint of rokassa juice. He insinuates his tongue inside that unresisting sliver of an opening and closes his eyes long enough to let a million minutes of fantasy rush by in his head. Julian pokes again, stabs that tip of tongue just a fraction inside hallowed ground feeling the ache, feeling his hands tremble and he wants to just _force_ those broad shoulders down to worship him with that mouth. 

Julian’s tongue outlines soft lips, traces a perfect slippery wet mosaic against the unresponsive lips remaining still as a corpse and he wonders if not for the warmth if this is what it would be to make love to the dead. It shouldn’t make him this fucking _hard_ but he can feel the swell of his cock as he twists and presses to Garak’s front with a soft groan.

“This is all-“ lick. “Your fucking-“ lick. “Fault.” He pulls back breathing heavily, letting his hands gently, almost gracefully fall down the front of Garak’s tunic and he closes his eyes for just a moment rubbing his cheek against the ridges of Garak’s neck panting hard, tightening his grip on the fabric just daring the fucking doctor to object. He presses against Garak’s hip torturing himself with the pressure. “I should make you _suffer_. I should make you... so fucking sorry.” The room seems to be spinning the more tightly he shuts his eyes and goddammit it’s not midnight and he’s _not_ turning back to a fucking pumpkin. 

His hands loosen and Julian swallows.

“Oh god…” He takes stock of where he stands and steps back almost tripping over himself in his haste to put distance between them vigorously wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand hard enough to feel the scrape of teeth over skin. Julian feels another wave of nausea looking down almost stupidly at his body and wondering in panic why he’s in a state of arousal. “God what have I?...” He hears the chirp of his COM badge going off like sirens or phaser fire in his head and his eyes are so wide open that he can feel the painful unblinking rush of air as he looks at Garak terrified.

“I...” Julian grabs the tunic from the floor practically throwing it at him. “I...” The COM badge chirps again. “I was in here trying this on and I...” He feels as if his heart is going to thud out of his chest and he can’t help but press his fingers to his lips stupidly feeling an onslaught of excuses, of lies and there’s no way out of this. _And is that the start of a liar? One lie on another because the truth is just too…_. “I decided not to purchase it.” He finds himself saying to Garak and he starts to shake again. _Stop it!_ “I was c-called away on an emergency to the infirmary.” _chirp._ “And if anyone asks you I... you... you needed my help on... god you’re a liar make something up already!”

Julian throws the curtain open wondering why his hands still won’t stop shaking and as he looks up at the store, at the bright lights and imagines the buzz of patrons walking past outside in the Promenade. He touches the COM badge and his hands steady themselves.

“I’ll be right there. Mr. Garak was feeling faint and I was seeing to him.” He glances back at the slightly darkened face. “He may have taken a fall as well but everything’s fine here. Please give Kang my apologies.” He tucks the chains carefully back beneath the collar of his uniform and straightens his hair in the mirror. It’s almost as it should be. The face isn’t right but it will be. He looks at Garak with a nasty smile and walks back over to him one last time. “You will remember nothing else of what transpired here. Only that you felt faint and I assisted you. Now you will let me out and then go about your business and not come back until two minutes have passed.” He indulges himself in one last teasing swipe, one last taste of Garak’s mouth and he thinks the next time he just may well kiss him after all as a reward for good behavior as he arranges the tunic over Garak’s shoulder in a ridiculous mimicry of a toga. Julian smiles with a contented purr.

“Fare thee well, Caesar.”

 

 _Sloppy_. That’s Garak’s first thought as he finds himself in the middle of the shop staring at the tunic in his hands. His mind tells him that Julian had to leave on an emergency but he knows better than to trust such easily manipulated things. Garak folds the tunic back up taking note of the time. Time lapse not withstanding, there’s something that feels off about his memories and he doesn’t seem to be able to pull up any particular details about Julian’s visit. _Curious and curiouser to quote a human idiom_. Garak walks into the back, checking the locks, deciding to keep the shop closed for the rest of the day. He doesn’t waste time as he pulls up the images on the small screen in the back hidden behind a stack of boxes. _Not that your security isn’t more than adequate, Odo, but there are some places I know you dare not tread._  

There is a piece of chocolate that makes its way from his pocket to his hand and he stares it at. His hand is still and any thoughts of discarding it, of not eating it are met with resistance from his body. _Fascinating indeed. But soon enough that mystery too will be unravelled._ He unwraps the chocolate thinking that he should be angrier than intrigued, thinking that ten years ago this would be playing out far differently. His hands work the controls quickly as the chocolate melts in his mouth.Garak leans in almost voyeuristically as he rewinds the first camera in the main showroom back to the good doctor’s entrance. His memory syncs perfectly with what he sees right up until-

 “I am the key.” As Julian speaks the words on the screen, Garak sits down with an unreadable expression and watches.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving along into more heavy Garak/Bashir and more mind fuckery still. I was expecting to be updating quite so soon but I'm not complaining! Thank you everyone for your support. C&C is always welcome.

_“And that, darling, is how I’m going to set the world on fire.” Julian ended the program and leaned back against the table watching the woman who still seemed to be in a complete state of awe as the screen faded to black._

_“And to think I didn’t even remember your name,” Dr. Elizabeth Lense answered at last breathlessly. She turned as Julian came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder._

_“Do you see it now, Liz?” His voice was a hush but it was still full of passion- full of barely restrained zeal. “Do you see why I wanted so terribly to show you? Why I wanted you to join me?” Dr. Lense shook her head as if trying to convince herself that what they were discussing could not possibly come to fruition._

_“There’s no way… There’s no possible way Starfleet will ever-“_

_“Starfleet?!” He stepped back with an incredulous laugh running fingers through his hair. “You and I are standing on the verge of the next phase of humanoid evolution and you’re bleating at me about Starfleet?!” Julian slammed a hand on the console making her jump as he gave another sharp mocking bark of laughter. “Bugger Starfleet! Bugger the whole damn Federation!” Julian squared his shoulders, voice quieter but just as hard. “You know what they’ll do with this? They’ll bury it. They’ll wag a finger and tell us to be on our way and maybe they’ll overlook this indiscretion and if we’re good if we’re so terribly repentant for daring to go where no man has dared before as the saying goes we’ll be_ _allowed_ _to continue our careers bowing and scraping to the same dated dogma.”_

_Julian’s jaw is tight and he flexes his hand, squeeze, release, breathes, bows his head and sighs deeply, catching her reaction- her shock- out of the corner of his eye. He speaks softer, more insidiously, with an introspective turn._

_“The Federation, will stand there and regurgitate Khan Noonien Singh and the Eugenics Wars until you and I are dead and buried Liz. The Federation will stick doggedly to their ideals whether right or wrong for fear of those they cannot control- whose thinking is too off kilter with their own. They will beat individuality into the ground and they will stamp out with a self-righteous sweep of their arm your dreams, my dreams,_ _our_ _dreams of a better universe.”_

_He looked up earnestly. “Khan is dead_. _He isn’t coming back and yet here his ghost sits in the room with us. I want to be better than that. I want to be better than my ancestors. I want all of us to be better. I want to live I want to create I want to be a_ _doctor_ _.” Dr. Lense looked at him and back to the screen again as if there might be a remnant of an answer remaining._

_“What you’re saying, Julian is-”_

_“Jules,” he corrected with a smile that wasn’t entirely pleasant. “I haven’t been Julian in some time now.” She shook her head refusing to divert her focus but he could see her wavering._

_“I’m not even sure what you_ _want_ _from me. What do you think_ _I_ _can even contribute to your work? My work is in immunology and even then... You’ve brought to life things that I could never even imagine… concepts that most of Starfleet Medical would call light years ahead of even the most cutting edge of biomolecular research.”_

_“Yes, and I didn’t even win a Carrington, did I?” Julian murmured where she couldn’t hear. Dr. Lense took a hesitant step towards the door._

_“I need time. I need to think about this there’s just so much to consider.” Julian stepped forward taking her hand between his making sure to catch her eyes intently._

_“_ _I_ _need_ _you_ _, Elizabeth. You weren’t first in our class for nothing. I need your brilliance, your skill. I know you can’t be happy wasting away on that charting expedition in the middle of nowhere with nothing to look forward to but algae. Please.” He squeezed her hands. “Just give me the time that you’re here, that’s all I ask.” He coaxed her even closer to him and dropped his tone even softer still. “You and I are going to change history, Liz. I’m sure of it.”_

 

“You should’ve seen the look on your face when she didn’t recognize you!” Miles is loud in his ear and Julian doesn’t understand why he so easily suffers the man’s company. He makes a study of his fingernails as a distraction not ashamed to note they’re far more smooth and polished than they’d been before the... He wonders if he shouldn’t stop thinking of that incident. _Mmm one doesn’t tend to remember birth but then again it isn’t every day that one rises from the dead... so to speak._ Julian yawns and laughs softly. Yes the look on his face when the good Doctor Lense hadn’t recognized him was likely murderous but he’s more than made up for that. _Made up for it and then some you silly arse..._  

“Oh I think I cleared that up rather nicely later.” He speaks with an awareness of the dig that he doesn’t usually possess but it passes by the drunken Miles sitting next to him in front of the couch. Miles laughs boisterously again, red faced as he slings an arm around Julian unwarranted. Julian doesn’t understand why he doesn’t immediately tense.

 _I don’t like you. You’re_ _nothing_ _to me. You’re_ _his_ _bloody friend and..._ And he’s the doctor’s friend. He’s Julian’s friend so of course Julian should like him. _That shouldn’t make sense. That shouldn’t make sense Jules but you’re prob’ly too fucking pissed to figure it out properly._

“Yeah yer a right Casanova you are,” Miles agrees sarcastically. That arm still hasn’t left him and he forces himself not to stare at him. Julian doesn’t have friends. Julian has goals, ambitions, people that he perhaps requires as long as they’re useful but he doesn’t have friends. _Right, goals, goals, Jules. You’re forgetting yourself just ‘cause you’ve had a few pints._ He shakes his head. _They never really like you anyway._

“You jealous?” Julian turns and tweaks his nose followed by a soft silly titter of laughter at the look that follows. It’s not dignified or contrived or anything it ought to be. _God, what can’t you just_ _focus_ _?_

“I’ll have you know...” Miles seems to forget his thought completely disregarding the uncharacteristic behavior. “In my day-“

“When dinosaurs roamed the earth,” Julian interjects with another half hiccuping giggle throwing dignity out the damn window.

“In my day I didn’t have no problem with the ladies either, _doctor_.”

And _that_ makes Julian tense with anger. _Don’t call me that. Don’t you_ _ever_ _fucking call me that I’m not him I’m-_

“I’m not...” He’s clutching the pint too hard and lets up quickly. Dimly Julian notices that he’s not wearing his uniform. He doesn’t know why he seems to be aware of that fact all of a sudden. Julian never wears the damn thing when he’s not on duty anymore. His fingers trace the visible chains on display in the low cut white V reassuring himself that no, he’s himself, he’s Jules, he’s not the damn doctor. _Miles had even teased you about looking like a bloody poet for god’s sake of course he can see you’re not… the same._ Miles, taking another long drink seems entirely unaware of Julian’s annoyance as he talks to the ale.

“Fella grows a fancy beard, think he’s god’s gift,” comes the not unfriendly mutter into the pint. The words make Julian blink his eyes and feel in that half drunken stupor an odd sort of melding clarity completely unlike the rush he felt a few weeks ago when he put Garak under in the shop

 _See, you’re coming together just fine. They’re all accepting it, they’re all adjusting, and soon he’ll be nothing but a dream in the eyes of the world… have to write that one down… yeah… s’all you, Jules.._ Julian takes another drink feeling the alcohol warming him up even more as he sinks back further against the couch looking up at the ceiling.

“Eh, that’s it,” Miles says brilliantly sitting up, almost lurching forward onto the floor. He interrupts Julian’s thoughts suddenly looking at him with a grin. Julian feels his head spin as he sits up too fast. “I ought to grow a beard.” Miles rubs his chin thoughtfully and it almost appears as if there’s two of him. “Think Keiko would like it?” Julian touches his own face in mirror absently not certain why the superior processing ability of his brain seems to be failing him so thoroughly. 

 _Why is this here?_ He contemplates the carefully manicured and patterned facial hair the thoughts flying out of nowhere. _No matter what you do you can’t go back to being what you were… why would you want to? They all secretly hated you. They only followed you in the end because they were afraid of you. I… I don’t want…. I don’t want any of that. I want it to go away. I want the door to shut again and I don’t want to like feeling so…_ Julian takes another drink wondering if he can possibly drown out all the conflicting thoughts in his head. Miles asked him a question, hadn’t he? _Right, answer him already before he starts thinking you’ve gone mad_. 

“Oh I’m sure- if not Quark can take bets on who wins that argument can’t he?” 

Julian laughs softly and finds it growing almost obscenely in direct proportion to Miles’ huffiness the longer it drags out. Well bollocks, if he can’t be his imperfect self around Miles then- _There’s nothing imperfect about you, Jules and you’re_ _not_ _having these thoughts._ “Rooting for you the whole time, Chief I swear.” He giggles again- a very un-doctor-like giggle he’s proud to say- and rests a head on his shoulder. He sticks a finger to the corner of Mile’s mouth pushing it up with another laugh. “Now you just turn that frown... upside down, right?” He has no idea why that’s so funny but it seems like the crooked expression as his hand is swatted away is the funniest damn thing he’s ever seen.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Miles asks him after another one of those terribly endearing squinty eyed expressions. Julian draws himself up with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes highlighting rather brilliantly he thinks, the dark eyeliner that only took him two attempts to recall with his old perfection.

“And what if I am?” he challenges. Miles looks confused but with drunken good humor claps him on the back after mulling it over. 

“Just don’t tell me yer wearin’ garters an’ a girdle and I won’t go askin’, mate.” Julian almost deflates with more laughter as Miles declares loudly, “If a man wants to pretty himself up after a long day of poking around alien bollocks all day who am I to judge?”

Just like that the matter is settled, Julian mystified to his own sense of relief. 

“Here here!” he raises the pint with a little more deliberate loss of coordination. Julian tugs at the low collar feeling warm and flushed and wonders if Terok Nor isn’t playing free and easy with the temperature controls.

“Here’s to alien bollocks!”

“To physicians ‘n fishnets,” Julian adds with a noisy clank taking another long drink enjoying that warmth coursing down his throat. There’s a small splash, the ale hitting skin with a tickling trickle. Julian really ought to mind that more but doesn’t let himself care that he’s likely stained the shirt, gotten himself sticky and made a thorough mess of himself. _Yes, Jules, you’re settling in quite nicely with the lot of them now. It’s a shame to leave it all behind but this is the good of humanity… the good of… of something or other…_

Julian watches Miles drink with equal lack of coordination. He watches the sloppy motion and the hand slip just enough to start one wrong swallow and a fit of raucous coughing. Julian smiles as it dawns on him in a flash of his usual brilliance. _That’s it... you’re such a good friend I should take you with me. You, Keiko, Molly, little whatsisname... I’ll make the lot of you just as perfect as you possibly can be… The first of many and I can_

“Are you alright?” Julian asks when Miles stops coughing and starts to catch his breath. He hears a wheezing to the affirmative and sighs. “We’re going to be a sad state of affairs tomorrow, aren’t we?” He feigns amusement and Miles waves him off. 

“S’nothing a coffee won’t fix.” Julian looks back and forth with conspiratorial drama before he leans in.

“Got a bit of a hangover cure side project I’ve been working on in the infirmary if you trust me enough to be my guinea pig, that is.”

“Business that slow eh?”

“Busier than ever actually… but if you haven’t got the stones...”

“Oh is that how we’re gonna play it?” Miles straightens up indignantly rising to the bait. “Well fine fine, I’ll drink anything you throw at me Mr. Bigshot Medical Officer.”

“Now don’t think I won’t be joining you this this little experiment, Chief. Can’t let you have all the fun now can I?” 

“An’ the money,” Miles says with a solemn nod.

“Beg pardon?”

“Well if it works… and that’s a mighty big if even for you… but if it works I’d say you’re gonna be a hell of a rich man, Jules.” Julian stops dead, holding the pint with both hands almost afraid to look at him.

“What... did you call me?” _He couldn’t possibly know. There’s no way he could-_

“Oh right... s’one of Leeta’s little per names I take it? No need to get yer skirts in a twist I can-“

“No!” The loudness of his voice startles even him and he clears his throat looking away. “No I’d rather like it if you er... used that name too...” Julian trails off into awkward silence that doesn’t last long.

“Yeah well, fix my head t’morrow and I’ll call you the bloody Queen of England.” Miles takes another drink before asking if Julian knows “All for Me Grog” and Julian almost feels like he understands the doctor’s unfortunate sense of belonging here. He smiles and raises his pint already doing the calculations, the figures for raising all the money he’ll need from his… “hangover cure” as the two of them burst into another song. Julian sings with renewed enthusiasm. _Well, Chief, you’re proving useful to me already._

 

Julian stands outside the door to Garak’s quarters toying with the silver ring on his right ring finger. The brilliant blue synthetic sapphire came out of the replicator perfectly; it isn’t the color that he’s admiring.

“They call it a poison ring, Garak,” he whispers as if the Cardassian were standing right in front of him. “Though I wouldn’t expect you to know that as averse as you are to such things...” _But it isn’t poison inside the ring; it’s more of our mutual acquaintance._ The drug has run its course after all and while his existing suggestions should still be in effect he lacks the means to… make adjustments. _And there’s enough in there to drop an Algorian mammoth just like the shite he doped himself up on when his implant failed. Enough to keep him good and complacent for a while and lord knows that didn’t kill him so this shouldn’t be anything to be concerned with..._

He’s run the scenario numerous times in the simulations and he doesn’t understand why he’s still worried. _Man up already, you’ve accounted for any untimely side effects, doctored the necessary records to account for most adverse reactions as the resultants of other stimulants and…_ And he cannot deny- much as he would like- the anxiety that isn’t borne out of details. The doctor is worried and it’s making _him_ worried. _But the doctor is_ _gone_ _. He has to be gone. I haven’t heard him in at least a week, haven’t felt him haven’t… Haven’t what, Jules? Haven’t been acting unlike yourself?_ Julian frowns and wonders if this might not be better plotted at another time. He looks down at the bottle of kanar in that same hand and considers he’ll have at least another month or two before everything is ready even with the issue of funding well in hand.

Julian shakes his head. _You’re probably still half hungover from the other night or still feeling the effects from whatever Miles had given you._ No, not “Miles”. He isn’t that close to the chief engineer that’s another affectation from the doctor. Julian tucks his hair behind an ear and takes a deep breath. _You’re too close Jules. He’s nothing more than another experiment- another cog in the machine and there’s no reason to keep him close aside from usefulness and potential. You’ve come too far to bollocks this up and you need to be sure when the time is right that Garak can be carefully contained. Better to have him on our side than not and he doesn’t seem half as susceptible to grand ideas and seduction the way the rest of these fools are._

Julian pastes on his most solicitous expression, his most perfect doctor face before deciding that the way he’s dressed there’s little bloody point in pretending. They’ve all had plenty of time to adjust, to acclimate, to _accept_ him and the few little hitches in that will be worn away with the imperfections of memory soon enough. Julian licks his lips tasting the faint waxiness of the gloss. He’s sure they’ve all noticed but Commander Sisko’s magical mystery flight has diverted most of their attention to far loftier things than dear old Dr. Bashir’s newfound fashion oddities. _It’s none of their damn business what I wear off duty anyway. If I want to strut around the Promenade in heels and a cocktail dress the lot of them can fob off._ The COM badge is pinned to the high necked sleeveless shirt and as far as he’s concerned that’s all they’re getting out of him. He waits, Garak calling from inside that he’ll be there in a moment and in a whimsical gesture he hides the bottle behind his back making sure he’s giving his most devastating smile. This _is_ a mission, after all.

The door opens and Garak is there far closer than he was expecting. There’s an odd jumping sensation in his stomach like he’s never felt before. Julian doesn’t get nervous like that. He shrugs it off. _It’s been what… over a decade since you’ve been back in the world, Jules?_ _Now pay attention and do what you do best, luv._

“Well, doctor, I must say, this is a pleasant surprise. Assuming of course that you are in fact this world’s Doctor Bashir.” Julian smirks at the audacity of the comment and takes a step inside uninvited just daring Garak to stop him. 

“And what would you do if I wasn’t?” he asks with a challenging expression. “Hem my trousers too short?” 

“You laugh doctor, but I can assure you the residents of the station would never let your dignity recover from such an egregious wardrobe malfunction. They’re very...” The door shuts behind them and Julian sees just the slightest shadow pass over Garak’s features. “...fashion conscious.”

“Well I hate to disappoint you, Garak but it’s just me. Plain, simple, Julian.” 

He lets Garak look him over- “plain, simple, Julian”, that is. He isn’t so plain and simple tonight however deciding to wear something designed to distract. He doesn’t have a tailor’s keen ability but he does have a replicator and a lifetime’s worth of memories- of carefully vaulted clothing parameters that still more or less fit. The dark blue shirt is tight across the chest and stomach but it was never meant to hang and if one can see the dip in the navel they won’t see the ring dripping pretty clear liquid into a glass of kanar. The black pants hang low on his hips and fit like a second skin by the grace of God and his new exercise regimen. The boots fit perfectly- his feet haven’t grown so much as a centimeter since he wore them in school thank God- and he can feel the eyes on him as he turns, keeping both hands neatly behind his back holding the bottle. Julian looks down, then up, taking stock of Garak’s signature fashion sense in the dark red tunic and pants.

“Plain, simple, Julian, is it?” Garak murmurs as he returns the expression finally settling on Julian’s face, not quite meeting his eyes but rather studying the eyeliner with slightly parted lips that unexpectedly make Julian’s mouth dry.

“If I recall you invited me here to have a bottle of kanar once upon a time.” Julian brings the bottle around with a flourish looking Garak in the eyes in defiance of his body’s heightened anxiety. “I was hoping to continue where we left off before all that unpleasantness.” His eyes dart to the side in spite of his best efforts to hold them steady. The memory is an uncomfortable one and it nearly makes him hiss in annoyance for such an intrusion to his emotions all of a sudden. Garak accepts the bottle with a nod.

“Yes, I can only imagine what an ordeal my complete physical and mental breakdown was for you.” As pleasant as the tone is Julian feels as if he’s just been told to sod off and he finds the flash of anger at the impudence to be at least a familiarity. _It’s that damn, Miles. He probably drugged you, you fool. He’s not half as incapable as you seem to think... Brilliant where it counts... Dammit Jules, focus!_  

“You know you never need to apologize to me,” Julian says with all the benevolence he can muster as he watches Garak place the bottle on the table wordlessly. Whatever weird flash of annoyance that Garak seemed to have is gone when he turns back around. Julian decides it best to smooth things over regardless and quickly changes the subject. Garak’s guard will be high enough as it is without him being unnecessarily piqued.

“Quark told me the vintage is from the Ba’aten Province and quite good. Though I’m certain he knows I wouldn’t know good kanar if it bit me on the...” Julian trails off seeing Garak make an odd study of his bare arms. His first reaction is to cover them as unusual as that would be for him and he feels a slight switch aborting that self-conscious action.

“Am I violating some esoteric Cardassian law of modesty?” Julian asks settling for crossing his arms with a huff.

“I appreciate the sentiment, doctor,” Garak murmurs still seeming distracted as he ignores the sarcasm. “Though I admit I had held out hope that had you required a new costume to don, so to speak you would have first come to me before you…” Garak looks at the chains hanging around his neck and Julian has no idea what on earth is so fascinating about them. They were the first affectation Julian reacquired and he even made up some story about finding them an irresistible piece from a traveling merchant when Jadzia had finally poked her damn nose too far into the matter. “…made any unwise decisions.”

Julian catches the last of that cryptic statement and isn’t sure what Garak is getting at. _You don’t know… you can’t possibly know a damn thing about the situation whatever the hell the doctor was trying to tell you when he was still here…_ Julian keeps his arms crossed defensively, middle and index fingers insinuating themselves into one of the thin silver loops unconsciously. He watches Garak follow the trail of those fingers twining, teasing, cool silver spilling delicately across his wrist.

“Are you objecting to my attire on a business or a personal level?” he asks at last with a trace of huskiness in his tone. _Bring it back to the seduction, Jules. Draw the attention to the rest of the damn package and not just whatever the hell he keeps looking for._  

“Oh hardly objecting, doctor-” Garak’s eyes sweep over him a final time his face wearing a perfunctory polite smile. “…but if I might make an observation?” Garak takes a step forward, arms clasped behind his back with that caustically warm face he wears when telling Julian he’s got something stuck between his teeth.

Julian regards him curiously for a moment before deciding that he’s had enough of standing in the middle of the living room. He walks to the couch, sitting down with a leg crossed, right arm behind his head in a practiced pose.

“If you must,” he says somewhat petulantly, turning the flirting on a little more in case Garak doesn’t recognize more than acidic retorts and sharp debate as a sign of sexual interest. Garak still seems disinclined to take the bait instead picking up the bottle of kanar again with a curious second study- as if his eyes can dissect the faint orange that swirls around the sealed bottle. _You stare at the bloody thing all day, Garak. You’re not going to find the answers there, at least not yet._

“You are wearing far too much… black,” he says still not looking at him.

“Too much… black…” Julian repeats curiously as Garak retrieves two stemmed glasses and sets them on the table. 

“You’re wearing darkness like a cloak, my dear,” Garak says unstopping the bottle. He pours the thin liquid carefully noting the age and preciousness of the drink and Julian almost thinks he’s going to leave it at that. “I don’t think many will find that it suits you.” The vintage all but glistens in the light and Garak’s eyes are just as vivid catching him in a brilliant stare, handing him the glass. Julian cannot seem to look away though he doesn’t know why he wants to all of a sudden. The scrutiny is too much, at least that searching expression and he can’t help but think the fucking doctor must visit the man in his dreams or- _Just who the hell are you talking to? Who the hell do you_ _think_ _you’re talking to?!_ He blinks and looks down carefully swirling the liquid around to aerate it as he would any wine. The older the vintage, the thinner, the more liquid was what Quark had said to him and that small detail to hide the watery drug was the only reason that he let the Ferengi swindle him out of so much carefully saved money.

“You may have noticed, Mr. Garak that I’ve grown rather tired of what others think of me.”

“You seem to have grown tired of a lot of things, doctor.” Julian continues to look at the kanar as if he could somehow see himself reflected in the faintly rippling waves breaking the surface tension. He snorts derisively at the remark.

“If man were meant to stagnate at the same point of evolution forever we’d have never reached the stars. We’d never see the rise and fall of empires give birth to the ultimate monolith of power. If a man never changes, Elim,” Julian looks up and turns to Garak- sitting now so devilishly close on that sofa- holding that stare, infusing his every word with that ultimate unwavering belief in himself. “Then he is not a man but an animal. If a man never changes then he has written his own death sentence, would you not agree?” He doesn’t break that look, keeps those eyes held, is barely aware of his own movements as he remains reclined just waiting for Garak to answer him.

“They say that when you look someone in the eyes- when you hold their gaze for more than six seconds... It can only mean one of two things.” Garak continues to look into his eyes as he speaks. It sparks a memory ages ago of a film he watched in school- the cobra would raise up, towering over the small desert vole entrancing it into paralysis before striking. Julian doesn’t back down even feeling his hand shudder with the faintest tremble around the stem of the glass. He is aware at the same time of his own breath, of his own heartbeat, but even louder... _Where the devil did that damn noise come from?_ It’s like a metronome and until this moment of silence frozen in diamonds and glass it’s been so faint as to not register but now it’s almost all he can hear. _toc toc toc._  

“And what might that be?” _toc toc toc._ Garak smiles at him and Julian’s first thought is that it’s an incredibly sexy spreading grin across his face. The second thought it that Elim Garak is a very dangerous man.

“It means, my dear, that you either wish to sleep with me, or kill me.” The glass in Garak’s hand slowly raises and Julian mimics the gesture too stunned to do otherwise as he suddenly drops his eyes. It’s the damn noise. It’s disrupting his concentration because this is a game he’s played to fucking _death_ in the past and it’s only that bloody _toc toc toc_ that breaks his usual concentration. _It has to be. That has to be the only reason I can’t think tonight. He’s probably had the fucking thing going the entire time and if I could just stop_ _hearing_ _it..._ Except Garak doesn’t seem to register any noise at all and if it weren’t for Cardassian hearing Julian could almost believe he’s imagining the whole damn thing. Julian watches  Garak- trying to divert his attention from the perfect pattern of sound announcing not quite a second with each _toc_. He shakes his head and brings the glass up to his lips stopping, peering over it wickedly as he regroups. 

“Perhaps I would drug you.” He says suddenly and smirks when he sees Garak automatically pause in his imbibing. _That’s it, Jules, this is your game after all. These are your rules and no spy turned seamstress is going to beat you at it._

“I beg your pardon?” There’s a slight reaction beyond the surprise and wariness and Julian isn’t sure what to make of it. But he pushes.

“If I was here to kill you,” Julian says swirling the liquid around in his glass once more still not drinking it- as if his earlier action were nothing more than a ploy to get Garak to drink. He absently looks at the ring for a split second before cursing his carelessness at the gesture. He dares a quick glance at Garak gauging for any further reaction, seeing nothing but curiosity and a faint amusement. _Good. He isn’t half as observant as he pretends to be then._ “Assuming that I’m not here for your body...” He drops his voice just a pitch lower, just a little breathy, almost mimicking that adorable way that Leeta has when she’s being playful. “Assuming that I don’t desire you... don’t lust... don’t _ache_ for your... assuming all that,” he says shifting the glass to his left hand and setting his elbow on the back of the sofa, sitting up and turning into Garak’s personal space enough to _smell_ him. “Then perhaps I ought to tell you how I intend to give you a little death.” 

He doesn’t expect Garak to understand the double entendre- doesn’t expect the translator to pick up on the very human expression- but it’s rewarding to simply say it as he pulls back a bit. Garak looks to be engaged in a way Julian hasn’t had a chance to witness during their usual routine and it almost seems as if that methodical noise is picking up to match his heartbeat. _toc. toc. toc._

“Well do tell, doctor. How is ‘plain simple Julian’ going to do in the…” he pauses for dramatic effect and the way he half hisses the next few words is an aphrodesiac itself. “… _nefarious Cardassian spy_?” Julian licks his lips as he’s about to give once of his most masterful performances and as he catches sight of the exposed glass his mind works to best calculate how to pour the contents of the ring unnoticed.

“It’s quite simple really.” Julian leans in at the same time as Garak, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I’m a sleeper agent of course. The real Julian Bashir has been replaced by a member of the Obsidian Order under orders from Enabran Tain to- in the event of his untimely death- finish the job of erasing his most favorite mistake should said mistake somehow manage to outlive him.” He catches the darkening of Garak’s expression, the tightening around the eyes and imagines there aren’t many to bear witness to such a look and live. It’s almost enough to make him hard. The pause is a test and he can’t be sure how long it last with the _toc_ _toc toc_ starting to disrupt his sense of time nearly in the reverse. But he waits what he thinks is long enough and Garak’s voice is soft and laps at his ears almost snaking through the constant _toc toc toc_ like a little wisp of air.

“By all means, doctor, do continue.” 

Julian leans in just another fraction closer, setting his own glass down, finger circling the rim of Garak’s as he drops his eyes and keeps that devilish upturn of his lips.

“Of course being a doctor, Julian Bashir has access to a myriad of drugs which can be used to easily incapacitate the victim. You see, I don’t want to poison you in this case. This is not a mission to send a message, no. This is a subtle assassination that requires a rather delicate touch.” Julian dips just the dip of his finger inside and brings it to his lips. He lets Garak watch him tease a few droplets onto his lower lip before lapping it up cleanly with a final slip. “But it doesn’t end there, no no no. When you pass out in oh say another few minutes I will take the opportunity to extract a hypodermic syringe.” Julian pulls his right leg underneath him, body shifting closer still. His knee touching Garak’s thigh and the intensity with which Garak studies him makes him rush with excitement as if the rest of his body can’t keep up with time itself. 

 _toc._ The noise slows down and he has no idea how fast he’s speaking as his eyes dart like mad between glass and Garak.

“Why a hypodermic syringe instead of the old tried and true hypospray, you ask? It’s quite simple, really.” Julian toys with his hair and leans in even further, shifting, bring his mouth to Garak’s ear as if he’s whispering something dirty to him. “One of the greatest failings of the old standard pokey stick is not just the pain not just the little... _prick_ no, Mr. Garak no no no.” _toc_ “Far better, far far better the fact that if one is not careful…” He’s breathless as he rests a hand Garak’s shoulder. “If one does not… tap every last bit of air from the syringe...” _toc_ “The results can be rather… fatal.” Julian punctuates the statement with a playful tap to the side of the glass, that last word hushed to the shell of Garak’s ear causing a slight tremor that Julian feels and he sits back to try and reign in a semblance of control. _toc._

“Fascinating,” Garak says with a beautiful expression of exaggerated rapt attention. Julian doesn’t stop to think the word could be applied to more than the game instead finding the look to be completely and utterly arousing. He squirms and can’t figure out why the sound continues to remain slow, slowing with every passing second until he’s spent an encapsulated eternity completely fucking hard.

“Isn’t it though? The whisper escapes his lips so quickly it almost sounds alien to his ears and he tries to force his time cognition to sync with his other senses. _toc. toc._ Julian almost closes his eyes, almost allows the smell of Garak’s hair to anchor him and his breaths almost seem unsettlingly drawn out. “You see Garak, luv, when one takes a hypodermic syringe... and neglects to properly tap out all of the air... or say… decides instead to fill it entirely with air and injects it into the patient’s bloodstream… into the vein just so...” Julian laughs softly as he considers the absurdity of the situation and wonders what he’s even doing here. “Perhaps fatal is an exaggeration unless one were to say hit an artery instead…

“You’d have fucking kittens at the size of a fifty milliliter syringe if you were conscious to see it,” Julian declares manically. He abruptly pulls back and takes his own glass again in his right hand with a soft titter. “Fucking kittens,” he repeats looking at the liquid that seems to have mysteriously changed color with the sudden action. _Why didn’t I see that before?_ He opens his mouth and makes a false start before closing it again seeing Garak watching him with a predatory look that’s just as vivisecting as it is sexual. That _toc toc toc_ comes roaring back just shy of marking every second. Julian can feel the scowl form on his face as that gaze becomes unbearable.

“Don’t you hear that?!” Garak still just watches him with a patronizing smile that isn’t half as attractive as it seemed... however long ago it was. Garak takes a long drink from the glass and Julian almost grabs the damn thing before he drinks it dry, twisting the ring around his finger in agitation.

“You present an intriguing scenario, doctor,” Garak says as if Julian hasn’t just asked him a question. “You’ve clearly given the matter quite a bit of thought. But I’m afraid I must point out the fatal flaw in your little story.” Julian blinks at him feeling strangely out of his depth almost in despair as that fucking racket grows louder and speeds up. He nearly pulls the ring off his finger to throw it in frustration.

“I don’t have any...” He stops and swallows. _“I don’t have any flaws.” Is that what you were going to say? What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to seduction, to lap crawling, to “my, that’s a big one?”_ Julian’s fingers fall to the long chains clutching them almost like a lifeline as they twine around his fingers and pull his focus from the incessant _toc toc_. He takes a deep breath and takes a long drink as well before shutting his eyes for a few blessed moments with nothing but him and the cooling silver pouring through his fingers.

Julian opens his eyes and makes damn sure the only thing one should be able to see is desire and nothing more.

“Fatal flaw, you say?” he asks with a slight tease to his tone and toys with the cloth covered hollow of his throat loving the way Garak’s eyes fall to the spot. They don’t linger but it’s enough to make him warm from far more than the alcohol.

“For starters, doctor this vintage of kanar is rather delicate as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Had you exposed it to the air prior to this evening to measure the drug it would be sure to change color with even that small bit of oxidation.” _Ah, so that’s why it changed then. But didn’t your glass change as well. I should’ve noticed that if not for all the damn banging going on in here. Aren’t you just so damn smart, Garak?_ Julian keeps the amused smile on his face as Garak continues. “Of course you might have waited until this evening but more than that...” 

Garak takes another small drink and makes Julian wait and while he waits that metronome continues to hammer away at him. He sets the glass down on the table and Julian almost snaps at him to get on with it but by God if he could stand up before an entire school board inquisition, in front of God and half of the local law enforcement with his parents yelling in the background... Look the lot of them in the eyes as they would damn him to hell and tell them all that his classmates- their children, their brothers and sisters- were a bunch of delusional liars and if anyone had died it wasn’t because of... _Stop it, Jules. This isn’t the time for that, this is the time to be smart, to be brilliant and better than you were even then. The stakes are a lot higher and this is more than just your life this is existence itself, godhood, every significant thing that exists un this universe._

It all sounds perfectly noble in his head right up until Julian notes how Garak eyes roam up and down his body from head to toe in the manner he’s been attempting to cultivate all evening. He isn’t sure why it catches him unawares but it does far more to distract him with one look than that noise has all evening.

“More than that?” he echoes rather stupidly, inexplicably breathless, as he sets his own glass down.

“I can tell just by looking at your attire this evening, doctor, that there is no possibly way you could be concealing so large a syringe in your pockets.” Garak raises an eye ridge and again Julian can feel the heat in that look. He can feel the heat in his face, his chest, every part of him that matters and he takes that _toc toc toc_ and forces it to slow himself this time, forces that other sense of time slowing. It’s that slow down, that extra sensory perception beyond even conventional self-hypnosis that allows him to process innumerable thoughts seemingly in the blink of an eye and in that one instance he clears what can only be the doctor’s vulnerability. Julian is confident that the only thing Garak sees in the next moment when he blinks his eyes is what Julian wants him to see. And that’s the same lust reflected back.

“Who said that I was concealing it in my pockets?” he asks coolly, sitting back, untucking his leg and crossing it over the other with blatant suggestion. Garak merely smiles in answer taking another drink.

“Who indeed…” _toc toc toc._ It’s picked up again. At least he thinks it’s the external sound and not his own pulse thudding heavily in his ears. Julian sees the glass being drank down and he knows that he needs to act now or get Garak to pour another. Julian sits up and puts his hand over Garak’s boldly, the both of them holding the glass and he gives Garak a long, meaningful look that should brook no argument as to whether or not he has sex or death on the brain. _And maybe when I put you under this time Garak I’ll make you get on your knees and-_ “Do you know why this vintage of kanar is so highly valued, doctor?” 

“Why are we still talking about kanar, Garak?” _Why are you stalling? Why are you looking at me like you want to fuck me right here on the floor but keep dancing around with these games? And why won’t you shut up and kiss me already so I can finish what I came here to-_

“It changes color… when it’s tampered with, my dear.” _Toc toc toc._

“What?” Julian can feel his hand tremble for just a second over Garak’s before Garak’s other hand closes over his. He feels a thumb circle deliberately over the sapphire on his ring finger and his body freezes in such a telling manner he thinks there’s no way it could have possibly be missed. _Toc toc._ _Is this fear?_ Julian has never been afraid of anything in his life. _Toc toc toc._ The doctor is the one who fears, who worries, who has vomit inducing bouts of anxiety in the bloody loo- not him. _Toc toc toc toc. You can’t know. There’s no fucking way you could know! toctoctoctoctoc._

Julian looks away and fights the urge to yank his hand back and run.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is alien to his ears. It’s too plaintive, too soft and it’s somehow become secondary to the pounding. 

“You’re going too fast, doctor,” Garak chastises him softly. Julian can feel the thumb move from its position on his finger to the back of his hand and it makes for a strangely comforting gesture. “Perhaps… if the noise is bothering you… you should slow it down.”

“Slow it… down?” Julian almost asks him about that sound again but Garak isn’t half as distracted as he is and perhaps if he can just make it slow until it stops entirely…

“You know how to do that, don’t you?” The voice is soft as it questions and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t question any of it. Of course he knows how to slow down the metronome. It’s one of the most basic ways to induce the hypnotic state and he can do it without even thinking when he needs to- _Right. Focus… slow it down. Shut it off so you can get your damn head back on straight._ He breathes in slowly. _It’s not ticking off in seconds, it’s longer than that._ Julian breathes out and stares at the hands gripping his. _It’s coming back. It’s starting to clear._ His head on the verge of a migraine is starting to unclench, his body is starting to lose the tension and he breathes in again even more slowly. _Yes… just a little more, just a little longer, longer, deeper, slower..._ The noise begins to nearly and Garak’s hands feel so terribly warm…

“Yes, that’s better...” Julian doesn’t know why Garak’s voice is closer to his face until he looks up and sees it so unbearably close to his own. He doesn’t know why the room is blurring and why every motion seems to be passing through a temporal shift. It seems like hours when the _toc_ skips to another at last, no longer so insistently. Julian thinks he hears Garak speak his name but the other’s lips are moving too slowly for him to properly register. _Is that my name? But that’s impossible you don’t know my name… Elim..._. Julian tries to blink but he feels too heavy and he feels himself floating back to the couch, still watching Garak’s impassive face as it moves further away.Those lips move one more time and it’s sharp, quick, the command breaking the haze of his conscious and as he hears “sleep” spoken he sees the darkness encroaching upon him and his head sags forward, body limp, falling right into Garak’s arms. He breathes in deeply. _Right. Sleep. Sleep will help me focus…_

 

Garak lets the position linger just a little as he eases Julian back onto the sofa, that warm breath on the ridges of his neck- even the faint tickle of that odd scroll worked facial hair- far too pleasurable to be permitted. He watches the rise and fall of Julian’s chest as he slowly disengages their hands and sets them on Julian’s lap. _I told you before I’m a gentleman, doctor and much as you’ve tempted me tonight it wouldn’t be good manners to take advantage of you in such a condition._ Garak isn’t entirely sure what condition that is but Julian’s behavior tonight combined with the security footage and his own observations from the last few weeks re-examined are making a much clearer picture. The picture is that Julian is not at all in his right mind. _Get on with it already, Elim. You need to ask a few very specific questions and sitting here staring is an indulgence you can ill afford._ Garak takes another slow drink of the sweet, tangy kanar, draining the glass before setting it down. He notes that the two glasses are of a different hue as he stands. Standing is much better. Standing far more like working, far less intimate, and even as he looks at the dark blue stretched over Julian’s flat stomach he knows that there are greater stakes here than the base desires of the flesh.

“You look very relaxed now.” he says disengaging any erstwhile emotions. “I do hope you feel relaxed. I’m sure you will find that when you relax that the noise you complained about has ceased.” Garak ends the program softly. “But keep your eyes closed, my dear. You find it far easier to think, to answer my questions when your eyes are closed. You _want_ to answer my questions. It will make you feel good. It will make you more relaxed and comfortable. More… at ease with yourself.” Garak avoids any usage of name and watches the tension slowly ebb further out of Julian’s body. He sees the flutter of eyes and can see the register of his voice. 

“Yes… of course,” Julian agrees softly.

“That’s good. Keep breathing. Keep letting yourself float and relax. I’m going to start and I want you at your most relaxed, at your warmest, like you’re in a warm bath. It’s okay to go underneath the surface. You can breathe under the water and it’s warm as it enters your body. Breathe. In. Out. Slowly, slowly. You want to be warm and answer my questions and you’ll need to sink deep to answer me...”

Garak watches Julian start to breathe, he watches as the minutes go by, talking to him softly, watching the body relaxed, boneless, yet at the same time aware, animated, perfectly alive and far more trusting than any living creature ought to be of him. Garak continues to stare, to drink in the sight of that stomach and those bare arms that at first seemed ridiculously long overly exposed limbs in the sleeveless shirt. _Cheap, synthetic, really, doctor I’m almost more offended that you eschewed my highly developed aesthetic in favor of trash..._ But it is uniquely flattering trash and the more he studies the half conscious body, the more he finds himself letting those dark daydreams start to insinuate back into his consciousness. _You have no idea how angry I was, doctor. No idea at all the things I want to do to you in return. I could do far worse to you than stand here and ask you questions. I_ _want_ _to do far more. I want to teach you what it means to tease- to torment- and in your current state I almost think you’d let me… But even if we weren’t friends I owe you a debt and you haven’t pushed me that far just yet._

“A little more. A little deeper and we’ll be ready. Do you understand?” 

“Yes... deeper...” The cadence with which Julian speaks those words is like the human metaphorical devil on his shoulder and it would be far far too easy to lose control. That cannot be allowed. Garak crosses in front of him again taking a deep breath himself. No, it won’t do to let himself give in to those impulses. _One of the first rules, Elim. Never let them get to you like this. Never let them effect you. You are the sole light, the sole salvation and when you ask the questions you are master of not just the interrogation but yourself....They do say, doctor, that confession is good for the soul. And I shall nobly endeavor then to be your salvation._

Garak takes just a moment to consider the two names that he heard on the recording. Julian. Jules. There are two roads he can walk with this and where the doctor never lies, the doctor does not entirely appear to understand what is going on either- tonight only confirms that suspicion. He decides to proceed as he’d initially planned.

“Who are you?” is the first thing that Garak asks and the response comes without hesitation.

“Jules Subatoi Bashir.” The voice is soft but not at all uncertain and it means the next logical question would be- _Where is Julian then? Who is Julian? Who are you?_ These are questions the footage had given rise to and yet the more he considers, the more he even thinks about them with Julian here, the more he finds himself unable to speak a single word. _Clever. Yes, you’re quite clever, Jules._

Just like the chocolates, just like the music there is a compulsion that he is unable to break. Garak narrows his eyes and can’t help but smile nastily at that triumphant little upturn of Julian’s mouth. Whether he is aware of what is going on or not he seems completely confident in his infallibility. _Do you really think that’s it? I cannot uncover what I cannot ask, but I think, Jules that you and your little games are nothing but that. And I’ve been playing far longer than you and with much heavier stakes._ Garak finds himself growing far too excited at the challenge of dissecting- of violating- and it would be best for all parties if he were simply to end this now- to bring his concerns to Commander Sisko, to Julian’s friends, to perhaps some qualified Starfleet medic without any sort of personal stake in Julian’s… well-being. Garak pours himself another drink instead _. A very fine vintage indeed..._ Garak sifts through family, plans, any number of things he could ask only to find that every door yields a lock on his tongue. 

But that will only make victory that much sweeter and seeing that arrogant little smirk ad he realizes the best way to trap a king. _Yes, you know better than anyone how the most powerful, most arrogant ones love to hear themsevles talk._

“Tell me what you dream about, Jules.” _Bury yourself, my dear._

“What I… dream about?” comes the careful answer. Garak too appears cautious as if circling a dangerous animal as he presses on appealing to that inflated sense of ego.

“Yes, what does Caesar dream of if not an unconquerable empire?” He watches Julian take an almost ecstatic breath as he wets those lips- those far too glossy, far too tempting lips- and speaks in a hush.

“An empire of Gods. An empire to rival any of those set above in the heavens; that is what I dream of, Elim.” Garak watches the face open and naked- full of ambition, desire, and Julian speaks in the same manner as he used to when discussing the excitement of his work in the infirmary. “I want to create a utopia, a perfect world where disease is vanquished, suffering, death, are all relics of a bygone era, and everyone knows that it is because of _me_ , Elim. I want to be everything that Khan wasn’t. And I will. I will be loved, revered like the father of the gods, seated upon the highest throne like Zeus and I will be so terribly…” 

Julian trails off and Garak can watch without fear of being noticed, can observe the shift that he can now recognize instantly and trusting his instinct he doesn’t ask for Jules but-

“Julian?” Julian is still and there’s just a faint crease between his brows, mouth turned downward and Garak sits next to him putting a hand lightly to his knee taking a different tact this time.

“Ga…rak?” is spoken as if he’s incredibly confused and unsure. _A complex series of subroutines? Is that really all that you are, Julian?_

“Yes. I’m here. You are still relaxed, Julian.” He cannot, no matter how hard he tries to say the word “doctor” and it is a curiosity he files away for later. “You’re here with me, Julian. You’re calm. You’re warm and all you need to do is breathe. Just keep breathing. Keep breathing in warmth and I’ll need you to go down deeper still. Go deeper and let everything clear away. Let it be washed clean. You have perfect clarity. Now again, who are you?”

“J-Julian Subatoi Bashir.”

Garak sets the glass down with a look of intensity that Julian cannot see beneath his shuttered gaze.

“And what do _you_ dream... Julian?” he asks with the tenderness that usually accompanies the pain. It is the same sympathetic tone he employs before laying in with blood, with agony, that gentle voice to coax the truth into being. The thought both excites and disturbs him as he looks at the human body thinking how slender and fragile those limbs appear to be. Garak lets a finger trail down the adam’s apple of Julian’s lean and vulnerable neck. Julian’s breath hitches and Garak is so taken with the desire to press, to feel the fluttering of pulse faster, to watch him gasp for air and he thinks if Julian doesn’t answer him soon he doesn’t know that he can trust himself to resist. _“He is nothing but a fabricated persona and unlike me... he does not himself dream, he does not want, he does not_ _desire_ _.”_ Those words echo as Jules had spoken them believing them to be utter truth. _And if this is true, then what which is Julian should never be able to answer that question_. _And if you are_ _not_ _real, Julian, then it is truly a crime to break you?_

“I… I don’t know how to answer that, Garak.” It would be too simple to believe but this is a liar’s game and Garak knows better than to trust words alone. _The most perfect lie is the one that a man believes to be utterly true, you should know that better than anyone._ That’s not enough. It’s not good enough and it doesn’t satisfy his instincts. 

“Open your eyes, Julian. Slowly, very slowly because you’re still asleep. You’re still here with me and in fact you are dreaming now. But I want you to be able to see me. I want you to look at me. I want you to answer my question again. If you answer my question it will allow you to be at peace.” Garak watches Julian’s eyes slowly open and watches the head turning to face him. It’s an odd half sideways tilt of the head that’s eerily reminiscent of Jules.

“Garak?”

“What do you dream of, Julian? What do you desire?”

“I... I can’t...”

“Your secrets are safe with me Julian.” Garak whispers with such sincerity he almost believes the lie himself. He waits and watches every fleeting emotion pass over that open face. There is such a clear difference between the two- Julian and Jules- that he has no idea how he was fooled even for a moment. The answer does not seem to come easily but when it does, Julian himself appears as surprised as Garak when he whispers into the quiet room with a desperate realization.

“You.”

_Well you’ve certainly complicated things quite nicely for yourself, haven’t you, Elim?_


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot more Garak Bashir in the second half but first Julian’s plans become far more apparent and dare I say, sinister? Thanks to everyone reading and anyone wanting to correct what may be bad science feel free- I love C&C.

_Julian watched almost entranced as Quark shot yet another glance to the med kit beneath the table. It wasn’t until Quark started prodding it with his boot that Julian commented on it._

_“If you still think the Constable is lurking in the shadows, Quark, I assure you that I’ve taken care of it.” Julian sighed with exasperation and looked nervously to the back. “It would also help if your brother was actually_ _here_ _. I had made sure to enter in the infirmary log that I was here after hours assisting the two of you with a delicate medical issue.” Julian crossed a leg, folding his arms without the same self-assurance he’d displayed previously. Quark kept his eyes trained on the case despite any reassurances. He almost hadn’t let Julian enter with the case at all._

_“It’s not that I don’t trust you doctor-” There was a slight sideways flicker of Julian’s eyes at the tone of address. Julian cut him off trying to contain his irritation._

_“I told you that you don’t need to call me that. I’m far more comfortable if you just call me Jules.” He inclined his head looking as if it pained him to be so conciliatory._

_“Well having been on the receiving end of many an unfair accusation you can understand my need for caution... Jules.” The name rolled off with an alien sound. Julian relaxed just the same and picked the med kit off the floor. He pulled it onto his lap like a pet cat seeming to be past the hitch in his behavior._

_“Would it satisfy you if I opened him up and gave you a little stick?” Julian stroked the case suggestively looking amused all of a sudden. Quark did not seem to share the joke. Julian huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes setting it down on the table loudly. “Well why don’t we just put it in the safe until business is concluded then? Though, if you recall, I’m supposed to be conducting an examination here. And there’s hardly a point in hiding the only thing that halfway corroborates that story, wouldn’t you say?” His pique was clearly projected as his right hand went to its usual reflex of toying with the silver chains around his neck._

_Quark ignored his protest and if summoned by magic, Rom was there to retrieve the case._

_“You don’t think he’ll suffocate in there, do you, doctor?” Rom asked nervously as he picked up the med kit. Julian reacted to the name by clenching the chains tightly looking like he’d been hit with a splash of cold water._

_“I really don’t think-“_

_“It serves him right if he does.” Quark glared at the med kit as if it really were Odo Rom was holding in his hands. “It’s hard to feel safe when you have a suspicious character like that skulking around when honest people are trying to do business._

_“He’ll be fine, Rom,” Julian said to placate the other Ferengi managing a glance upwards and a weak smile. Julian took a breath as the med kit was placed in “safe keeping.” He looked down seeming more ill at ease than he was a moment ago. Quark took notice as he continued to watch Julian carefully._

_“He’s been watching you too, hasn’t he?” Julian looked up like a man startled out of something only he could hear._

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_“Odo,” Quark said as if it should be obvious. “I’ve seen him sneaking those suspicious glances your way between harassing my paying customers.” He indicated a particularly discreet spot on the second floor. “He likes to lurk up there driving away business. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, tell me how’s a man to stay in business under these circumstances?” Julian followed the arm and blinked slowly once, twice, before shrugging nonchalantly._

_“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Quark. You always manage to land on your feet. But as for me well, suspicions aren’t proof. Suspicions will give a man an ulcer. Suspicions will keep a man up at night but without that smoking gun…” Julian trailed off with a yawn. “Your concern while appreciated is unnecessary. Sisko or Dax or some other nosy Starfleet do-gooder likely grew tired of asking me if I was alright and decided to bypass niceties entirely.” Julian appeared irritated once more. Quark gave him a toothy smile._

_“Whatever change of heart you’ve undergone in the last few weeks… Jules,” he made sure to emphasize the name. “I find your more pragmatic outlook to be much more refreshing, myself.”_

_“That’s what I’ve always appreciated about you, Quark. You have a keen business sense that’s sorely lacking by most of the inhabitants of this station. And that is why I thought of you first with this little business problem I’ve found myself with.” Julian waited, watching that shrewd countenance and the greed mixed with curiosity that sprang to light in the Ferengi’s eyes. He lowered his voice as if fearing he might be overheard licking his lips with barely contained eagerness. “I need latinum, Quark. I need quite a great sum of latinum. And you’re just the man who’s going to help me acquire it.”_

_There was no immediate answer to that and Julian exhaled, eyes focused on the table intently, before looking up with practiced playfulness. “Not going to venture a guess?”_

_“You have me at a disadvantage, Jules,” Quark replied spreading his arms putting the ball back in Julian’s court._

_“Right well... I have something that a lot of buyers would be willing to part with a tidy sum to get their hands on…” He looked at Quark intently. “And a little birdie told me- to quote a human idiom- that you’ve been trying for some time to get in the good graces of the Orion Syndicate… possibly as more than just a friendly liaison.” Quark’s shoulders were filled with a slight tension as he looked up to where his brother had come back behind Julian._

_“It wasn’t me, brother! I didn’t say anything about you talking with-“ He stifled himself as Quark made a shushing motion giving Julian a friendly if serious look._

_“People talk, Jules. You know how it is. They gossip. But I’ve always been on the right side of the law so if you or Odo-“_

_“Do you remember that little darts tournament a short time back?” Julian interrupted impatiently drumming his fingers on the table. The shift was abrupt but it was obvious that Quark very much remembered- Miles’ victory had netted him a tidy profit._

_“Oh yes, very impressive. He was very much ‘in the zone’ as you hoo-mans say.” An understatement when in fact by the end of the tournament the two competitors were playing on equal footing at a distance no normal human could manage._

_“Well what if… I told you that I played a rather significant part in his victory? Say possibly in his entire good fortune itself?” Julian paused and let Quark consider this- let him mull over the possibilities. Rom seated himself across the table abruptly much to Quark’s obvious chagrin._

_“You cheated?” he asked seeming surprised at the notion that the doctor would do such a thing. Julian snorted and sat back._

_“Hardly.”_

_“Jules, as much as I can appreciate helping a friend profit, I’m not seeing the latinum to be made here.”_

_“I’m not...” Julian hesitated again taking a breath. “I’m not just talking darts, Quark.” He indicated a data pad that had been sitting on the table unobtrusively until that moment. Julian pulled up the numbers and pushed it across the table while launching into an explanation. Quark stared at the screen uncertainly making Julian realize he was going to need to break it down further. “It’s all right here, though as you two aren’t doctors, I’ll explain it in layman’s terms. What I gave Miles didn’t just improve his darts game. It made him_ _better_ _.”_

_Julian practically bounced in his seat with a show of his old enthusiasm leaning across the table. “It made him faster, stronger, more agile, in fact-“ He scrolled to another diagram on the schematic that was a detailed chart of the brain. “It even produced similar affects to the highly illegal accelerated neural pathway formation. Because there is no permanent pathways created per se but the altered cells of the brain are able to function more efficiently, maintain peak function longer, have less DNA degradation almost to the contrary in fact. What does that mean? It means improved focus, recall,_ _intelligence_ _. And that’s just to start.” Julian ran both fingers through his hair reseating himself, almost thrumming. “I was able to do with a little spritz of hypospray what genetic engineers only dreamed of even at the height of what we humans called the Eugenics Wars!”_

_Julian coughed, flushing nervously, looking around again as if Odo truly_ _were_ _disguised as a piece of furniture._

_“Right, sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “What makes this unique, what makes this something your potential partners would be interested in is this. This is not a drug. This is not genetic engineering as we’ve come to recognize the science today. This is in fact a mitochondrial virus which is active for a very specific duration until such time when it finds latency a more appealing option. Thus,” Julian pulled up the life cycle of the virus itself. “It then lays dormant until the correct stimulus is applied. When active the virus forces the cells it infects far beyond the limits of what they would otherwise be capable for a brief duration. The duration in this case being a few weeks, possibly months depending on the subject and the race- any longer and you risk premature cell death, hemorrhage, organ failure… a myriad of side effects better not thought about.” Another drum of his fingers, another brush back of hair. Julian looked at Quark and Rom, not liking the way Rom was frowning._

_Quark in the other hand was carefully considering. Julian seized upon that._

_“You see it too, don’t you? The virus can be forced back into its active state once a safe amount of time has elapsed- or not as the case may be but whatever the customer does at that point is their business, not ours- and most customers would pay a king’s ransom to maintain their… divinity one might say...” Julian again looked to be a mix of hesitance and enthusiasm and he took to fidgeting with the chains while Quark thought about it all too greedily._

_“There’s no way they would refuse me with something like this,” Quark breathed out at last. Julian studied both of them almost holding his breath._

_“Brother, you can’t be considering this,” Rom hissed. “This is a lot more than engineering the dabo tables this is-“_

_“The opportunity of a lifetime,” Quark declared looking at Julian with wonder. Julian had turned his head again briefly, a look of concentration on his face as he looked at Quark. His body relaxed once more._

_“So was my little birdie correct, Quark?”_

_“Brother, the syndicate is-“_

_“Going to be eating out of the palm of my hand!” Quark declared talking over Rom’s protests. “Gaila can keep his moon, I’ll have an entire world!” Julian twirled a lock of hair around his finger with a grin._

_“As shall we both… but first… we should hammer out the details of this arrangement.”_

_“Brother-“_

_“Quiet, Rom.”_

_“I think I’ll want that drink after all,” Julian said looking at Rom pleasantly. “Tarkalian Tea. Not. Sweet.” Quark cut off any further protests assuring Rom they would talk about it later. Julian trusted him to handle his brother._

_“Shall we start at a cut of thirty percent? After all I’m the one doing most of the production work and assuming a great risk to my personal standing and reputation.”_

_“Thirty? If this comes falling down on my head, Jules, I’ll be the one in the line of fire. And you need me, Jules, make no mistake about that. No, I was thinking more like sixty.”_

_“Sixty?! Are you mad? That’s a king’s ransom to set up a few meetings… now if you can procure me weapons as well then perhaps we can look at forty.”_

_“If we’re talking weapons, we’re talking my cousin Gaila and_ _that_ _is going to cost you a lot more. That’s going to have to put us up to sixty five.” Julian watched Rom set the tea down looking thoughtful._

_“Then perhaps… we ought to consider the security clearance needed to access the weapons locker instead or possibly even…” Julian stirred the tea slowly. “Perhaps there might be those who still have the ability to unlock the entire station.” He stopped and licked the spoon clean. “Well then, what percentage are we at for a name?”_

 

“Doctor.” Julian nearly jumps at the sharp voice which seems to come out of nowhere; he keeps that momentary heart skip tightly confined. It is on his lips immediately to correct the improper address with pique until he turns and sees Odo walking towards him. _No, you need to be far more careful than that, Jules._ Julian licks his lips thoughtfully as he determines how to mask any display of nervousness. He continues his walk slowing down as he turns his head towards the source of the exclamation. Julian is mildly surprised when Odo falls into step with him. He considers whether their destination is shared but says nothing. _What could Odo possibly_ -

“You’ll forgive me, doctor, but as I believe we may be going the same way I thought I might have a word with you.”

“Oh? Well I was headed to the wardroom for a meeting that Lieutenant Dax had called.”

“I’m headed that way as well.” _Well isn’t that just ducky._

“By all means, Constable, don’t keep me in suspense.” Julian finds it difficult not to simply toss his head and tell him to bugger off. He keeps a look of neutral curiosity.

“I had noticed you paying Quark’s a visit rather late last night.” Odo does not mince words. “Is there anything going on that I should know about?”

Julian feels his pulse quicken taking no longer than a moment to assess whether or not the question is as benign as Odo is appearing to be. _As benign as Odo ever appears to be anyway…_ _And here you thought Quark was unnecessarily paranoid._ He makes certain his face doesn’t betray himand then looks down, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

“Doctor patient privilege, I’m afraid. Although, I’m sure you would find Quark’s latest malady to be somewhat amusing were I able to convey it.” Julian’s eyes dart quickly to the side from beneath the curtain of hair to see if Odo buys the lie. He’s measured his cadence while lying- practiced it carefully in the safety of his own quarters in fact- but he hasn’t been able to account for this level of heightened anxiety. He’s never had to in the past. _You don’t get nervous, Jules. You don’t feel anxious. You’re not supposed to be anything but infallible. But is that because of the damn doctor or some Changeling parlor trick?_

Odo neither relaxes nor looks any more suspect. Julian finds to his chagrin that he’s completely unable to read him.

“You appear concerned,” Julian probes cautiously as if he were worried for his own safety. “There haven’t been any incidents on the station, have there?” _Divert the attention away from yourself, Jules. Make him focus on some other unseen foe- God knows there’s enough barmy shite out here to warrant it. Play on their sympathies. They know you’re still ill. They all feel sorry for your poor traumatic brain and you should milk it ‘til the time is right. You’ve had enough of a jaunt stretching your legs, you need to be smart now and not push it._ _Pull back until you’re a perfect outward mirror of your old self here._ Julian relaxes inwardly even as he projects anxiety. Odo shakes his head in the negative. _That’s it. Poor, pitiful Julian._

“Nothing that should be cause for alarm, just a few things I’m looking into...” 

Odo slows his walk as that thought trails off. He looks particularly thoughtful when his eyes look over Julian. Julian keeps his expression curious but carefully blank of any suspect emotion. “How well do you know the dabo girl, Leeta?” Odo finally asks. Julian blinks a few times and stops a few feet from the door to the ward room looking terribly artfully confused.

“Leeta?” _Yes that’s it. Say her name like you’ve just been told she’s a Changeling. You’re innocent._ _She’s_ _innocent. The whole damn world is innocent to Julian Bashir._ “We’ve grown rather close I... I’m very fond of her, in fact, is she in some sort of trouble?” Julian speaks in a hush at the end with a slight dramatic stage whisper. It pains him that all of this effort to perform perfectly is likely lost on Odo.

Odo, true to form, wears suspicion like a comfortable old suit but Julian notes it isn’t particularly directed at him. He wonders, in fact, if this revelation isn’t part and parcel of the reason for Odo’s surveillance of him. It nearly makes him laugh out loud. _Oh you can’t. You cannot_ _possibly_ _suspect that Leeta is the one behind all the hushed whispers in the hall, the careful propaganda, the delightful little sweet candies being passed around amongst some of the station inhabitants. As sharp as she is, she could never pull of the coup I’ve got going on right beneath the nose you don’t bloody have._ He puts a hand over his mouth as if shocked, carefully masking the smile that threatens to escape. Julian swallows the near hiccup of laughter as Odo watches him still. He finally is forced to bite his tongue to stifle elation before it turns to a fit of manic excitement.

“It would be wise,” Odo says at last after concluding his ocular dissection, “if you were to keep both eyes open, doctor. You may find that things are not always as they appear.” Julian drops his hand and crosses his arms with a small bit of incredulous laughter. He deliberately misses- in oblivious Julian Bashir fashion- any hint of double meaning.

“Well I’m sure whatever is going on, Constable, you’ll find that Leeta is entirely innocent.” He looks down, eyes staring at the floor not quite trusting himself to maintain eye contact. “Are you… able to share any of your suspicions?” Julian looks quickly back and forth as if they’re having some sort of clandestine meeting. He fakes it well enough to almost feel excited. Odo shakes his head. _No, of course you wouldn’t, damn your bloody caution_. 

“Commander Sisko is aware and will be informing ops accordingly but for now the fewer people that know the better. You understand, doctor.” It wasn’t a question.

_I’d understand a sight better if you’d stop fucking calling me that._ Julian only notices that after that third use of that hateful title his fingers are gripping his elbow far too tightly. He eases up as discreetly as he can manage seeing Odo’s notice of the slight shift in skin color. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. Julian notes the joint feels a slight ache and it worries him that he hasn’t yet learned to adjust for the minor increases in strength from the last experimental dosage. _Except_ _my_ _experimental dosage is a much more permanent effect. Yes, you’ve outdone yourself Jules. Slow, subtle, everything Khan and his rabble weren’t._

“I’m sorry I just don’t… don’t react terribly well to shock anymore, I’m afraid.” Julian manages a weak smile as if he can will Odo to believe, to underestimate, to pity by that act alone. _Not good enough._ _Whatever is going on with you, you need to be smarter, less careless;_ _perfect. No matter what happens you can’t slip up. Fix it, Jules._

“I think half of Ops tiptoes around me,” Julian confides with a shake of his head as he straightens up. “It isn’t as if my work has suffered,” he adds with a sigh. “I don’t forget things. I don’t make _mistakes_. I’m not an invalid, Odo. I’m not broken I’m not less than what I used to be or any of that. I’ll be better. I _will_ get better I just… I just need a little more time for my nerves is all.” Julian doesn’t risk looking at Odo in the midst of what should be a dramatic reflective soliloquy. He feels a half awkward reassuring hand on his shoulder and the gesture almost shocks him into a genuine reaction. Julian doesn’t understand why he takes comfort from the touch. It makes him stammer the next sentence with an emotion that cannot be feigned. “Th-thank you, Constable, I’m fine now.”

“If you ever find yourself needing to… talk…” Julian is too stunned to show anything at the half offered consolation. 

“I… I understand completely.” _You did_ _not_ _almost say something to him!_ “And as far as the other matter you have my absolute discretion.” 

Julian looks to the door mustering up his best tired smile feeling as if he doesn’t run now he may very well throw himself into the other arms and sob like a broken child. He swallows. _You need to make them stop, Jules. Whatever you have to do they_ _have_ _to stop calling you “doctor”. They have to stop calling you “Julian”. It’s too unsettling. It’s too close and somehow the doctor is still too close to being real._

“Well, I don’t know what all this is about, but I _am_ rather excited to find out.” Julian turns and steps through the doorway with a measured step. He fights every urge he has to bolt as the door opens without further preamble. Julian strolls in idly and makes sure that he keeps his eyes discreetly looking- makes sure they’re warm, affectionate, and hold nothing of the disdain he’s sure has manifested in the past 

_Two months, Jules, maybe less if this goes off as it should. Two months and you won’t need to hold back. You won’t need to be so considerate, so_ _careful_ _._ He sees Major Kira complimenting Miles’ improved physique and wishes he could take the credit openly. _Has it really only been two weeks?_ Miles looks good. _Thinner in the face, slightly more defined musculature- exactly as planned. I haven’t had to hold back half as much around you. You’re smarter too, I know it. And soon you should be ready to understand all the ideas I propose, embrace your place in the new order of things. You’ll be ready to leave all this nonsense behind after Keiko returns. Of course it could still go arse over tits where she’s concerned but that doesn’t-_

Julian forgets that worry as he sees Leeta quickly rise from her seat. She stands up as soon as she sees him- as one would for a king- and Julian feels exultation intermingled with guilt. _Do stop feeling sorry for the chattel, Jules. Whatever self-flagellating doctor nonsense still trying to rule you from the shadows should be ignored before it messes with your head._

“That’s a good little lark,” Julian murmurs brushing her face with a heated look. He catches the disapproval from Kira out of the corner of his eye and it annoys him. _It’s far more palatable to accept the bumbling fool constantly talking out of turn._ _It’s far easier to like me when I’m poor broken Julian, isn’t it, Major? Believe me, Kira, there’s a lot worse I could show you than this_. Julian strokes Leeta’s head like he would a favored pet watching Kira bristle even further. He can tell Leeta wants to protest the forwardness. She doesn’t. Instead she drops her eyes and says nothing. Julian can’t help the satisfied smirk at that. _Just a little indulgence. Surely just a small rush of dropping this for a moment won’t kill you now will it?_ _Impulse control is just a farce to control those whose impulses are wrong._  

Nonetheless Julian inhales slowly to bring it back under control and pulls his hand back. He sits down watching the rest of them take their seats making sure that when Kira sits down his expression holds nothing but innocent confusion. _A hundred percent bonafide Dr. Julian Bashir_ , _isn’t that much better?_ She looks as if she doesn’t know what to make of him still. _C’mon, darling. Remember the heart to heart we had after the attack? I poured everything into that. All the doubt, the self-recrimination, surely a few slips here and there don’t wipe all that away. You know I haven’t been myself. You know I still act out, don’t you? That’s all that it is, naturally I don’t mean it._ He makes sure not to watch her for too long and instead shoots a quick glance to Quark. _You’re a disgusting little troll but I need you desperately and so help me if I didn’t-_ Still there’s a look of understanding that passes between them- a look shared by two players on the same side of a game that only a handful even know they’re playing. Julian catches the Ferengi’s attention, his eyes darting quickly to Odo. Quark nods in response. _Good. Be careful._

“Jules.” Four heads turn in slight surprise at the address. _Yes, they don’t know yet, do they? Clean it up. You can’t afford to be so careless._ Julian looks at the lot of them expression blank, as if they have no cause for surprise. Miles, for his part ignores the lot of them continuing as if there’s nothing unusual about the name _._ “Whaddya say to another game after my shift ends? Think I might be feeling a win today.” _Good chief, good work. They trust you. They still like you even if they all hate me. They’ll take a cue from you since we’re such good friends and if anything were wrong of course you’d see it first, wouldn’t you?_

“So soon? You look like you’ve just come from there already.” Julian drops a hand to rest on Leeta’s thigh as he feels Odo’s eyes on him again. 

_You’ve seen all the transmissions to Elizabeth- to other members of Starfleet. Surely you’re wondering if the doctor is tomcatting around or if it’s something far more sinister. I don’t believe for a second that you’ve only been looking at Leeta- you’d be suspicious of your own mother if you had one._ Julian gives an encouraging squeeze. Leeta smiles at him prettily just as Miles boasts that he’s got all the energy of a teenager and more. Julian can feel his heart start to calm in reassurance of the pieces on the board. _There, Jules, you aren’t alone. You have allies. You have far more than they know and soon you’ll have everything in place_

Julian settles. He maintains. Jadzia comes forward then facing the lot of them next to Commander Sisko and he makes sure not to let his face betray anything but curiosity. Odo’s focus shifts back to both Leeta and Quark with that thinly veiled suspicion. _That’s right, Odo, keep looking at them and keep suspecting. You’ll never figure it out anyway and even if you do not a single one of them can speak the words, I’ve seen to that._ Julian keeps one eye on Odo, the other on Jadzia as she starts talking, allocating only as much attention as necessary to follow along. _How many do we have now, my little lark? A dozen? A hundred? You said the work was going well- the writings from “The First Disciple” were favorably received amongst the younger ones here. They’re eager, they’re hungry, they’re practically gagging for it- for me to lead them to the promised land._

Julian is sure to keep his eyes trained upwards, not too intently focused, even letting himself look at Commander Sisko as much as seems necessary. _The report from Liz was favorable as to the number of Starfleet officers who share our vision. You’re so naïve, Commander if you find yourself surprised by defections from men like Lieutenant Commander Hudson. Starfleet raises us to walk a fine line between zealotry for justice and exploration and it’s so easy if one knows the right buttons to push- especially when one has access to all the tests, the psychological profiles and knows how to read between the lines for potential allies. Yes, all of you can keep watching. You won’t find anything- Liz and I have chosen far too carefully. But as for Garak to-_

“I need to borrow your bodies.” It takes him far less time than anyone can observe with their eyes but Julian snaps back into full vivid focus as soon as Jadzia’s words reach his ears. He opens his mouth and closes it again. Time seems to move too slowly to intercede with further conversation as everyone else jumps in before he can. And Jadzia explains- rationally, calmly, precisely- the consummate science officer. But far from mollifying his concerns, the possibilities, the potential for disaster only grows in his mind. _If you think for one moment- If you think for one bloody microsecond that you’re getting anywhere near_ _my_ _head… If you think that you and that worm are going to be privy to every secret space in my psyche the lot of you are mad as a bag of frogs. Stay the hell away from my head Jadzia because I like you and I don’t want this to get… breathe Jules… breathe, dammit._ _Relax._

Julian hasn’t realized how evident his panic is until Jadzia lays eyes on him in particular with an empathic smile.

“I had hoped you would be amenable to taking this journey with me, Julian, but I’ll understand if you’re not able,” Jadzia says. Her use of what he thinks of as his former name infuriates him instantly. Julian blinks a few times to let that emotion pass, resettling in the seat self-consciously. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed but I won’t pressure you.” He wishes that all eyes weren’t suddenly on him. _This was a mistake. You never should’ve agreed to this meeting. For all you knew they were going to shove you in a sack and ship you off to The Institution. And now you’re actually thinking about it, aren’t you?_ Julian looks her in the eyes and swallows. _Just say yes. Just say yes and forget all of this. It’s not too late for you. You can go back. You can go back to your friends and your life and forget you ever wanted any of this nonsense before anyone gets hurt and-_  

And then it comes to him in a moment of clarity when Leeta places a gentle hand on his shoulder whispering “Jules.” Her voice is sympathetic- to him sickeningly so. Julian feels his stomach roil, feels an instinctive bodily recoil and he swallows bile at the back of his throat. _You see it now, don’t you?_ _It’s too late, Jules. You can’t go back and it’s stupid to even want to. They’ve never liked you. They’ve always hated you. They pretend because they feel sorry for the sniveling mess you project but friends? Don’t delude yourself. If you break now, if you come crawling back to them you’ll never live it down. They’ll laugh at you like they always have- like you’ve always allowed them to. You don’t have any friends but Miles now and you can’t be sure of him yet, either. This is a trap. It has to be a trap to let your guard down so they can pick you apart and rape your mind and you’re about to walk right into their hands, you fool!_

Julian knows what he has to do but the thoughts pouring in aren’t letting up.

“I…” Julian places his hand over Leeta’s, feeling himself shake, feeling himself gripping her hand tighter, knuckles white until she finally lets go of his shoulder with a look of pain. She doesn’t dare correct his action. Julian turns away, seeing Odo’s face first watching him, seeing Kira watching him and as he feels the rest of the eyes on him it makes him feel like he’s under a glass for scrutiny. Julian’s eyes finally fall to Miles out of desperation. _Dammit, Jules you know what you have to do, it’s not hard_. It sticks in his throat. Julian feels a tightness in his throat and he makes the plea with his eyes that he can’t seem to accomplish any other way. _Help me… If I really am more than just your drinking buddy or the damn doctor you have to get them away from me you have to-_

Miles, doesn’t let him down.

“Much as Jules would like to help, I think this is just one of those things, yeah?” Julian swallows and feels as if he might pass out from a feeling a sudden lightheadedness. He sees as he bows his head and peers up from his peripheral vision that they take the words to heart like gospel. Julian feels the dizziness recede. He feels calm. There is a certain magic to hearing his name being spoken that brings him clarity in place of doubt. _They say the name is one of the most powerful weapons one can wield but by God…_ His head clears and he looks again to Jadzia and Commander Sisko with a nod taking care not to appear too immediately recovered.

“Right… you have my deepest apologies, but I’m afraid that as the Chief says this is just one of those things…” he trails off unsteadily, the contrived frailty challenging any of them to contradict. Julian sits back, drawing a knee up to his chest thoughtfully. It’s a childish gesture that he is aware outwardly reinforces the delicate state of his psyche and fights the urge to smile. It’s nothing but an old affectation but they don’t know that. Only Odo, looks at him with a bit more suspicion but that’s quickly forgotten in favor of Quark whining “why should the doctor get a pass?”

“I’m sure, Major,” Commander Sisko cuts in smoothly leaving Quark to complain to thin air, “Jake would be more than happy to fill in as we’d already discussed.” Disappointed, but understanding, Julian catches Jadzia nod out of the corner of his eye before the conversation begins anew. He tunes it out entirely, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes to refocus. They all make their excuses for him. This time he has to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. He settles for a smile they all can read as thanks for sympathizing with his condition. _Yes, pity the poor broken doctor, all of you. I’ll be the one laughing when the dust finally settles._

 

The door chimes as Julian is in the middle of changing out of the Starfleet uniform and he swears under his breath. Garak is early. Julian pauses as he stands in front of the mirror with his hands behind his back on the clasp of the bra. He takes a deep breath and lets every scenario rush through like an old reel of film silently playing. Julian wonders why the mere thought of Garak’s presence in his room has him so discomfited. He cannot seem to concentrate properly no matter how hard he tries. _It has to be Garak. Whatever distraction he’s causing- whatever disruption in your psyche has to stop, Jules. But he’s been avoiding me._ _Why_ _has he been avoiding me? It doesn’t matter. You don’t care. You can’t afford to care about anything going on inside the damn spy’s head._ Julian takes careful pains to neatly fold the Starfleet Uniform- its very sight tempts him to leave it balled up on the floor with the rest of the discards _._

_Whatever the hell happened in your quarters, Garak, I’ve barely seen hide or hair of you and now you have to be fucking-_ He hears the second chime still not quite certain how he’s going to handle this. Julian bangs a fist on the sink. _Don’t over think it, Juli- Jules! Jules, can’t you even remember your own name now?!_ He looks at himself in the mirror just long enough to see that he in no way resembles Doctor Julian Bashir. _See. The doctor doesn’t have long hair. The Starfleet sheep doesn’t do anything more than roll out of bed let alone keep the careful pattern of facial hair. The clean cut Julian Bashir doesn’t wear makeup or women’s clothing, right? Right that’s more like it. Now, Leeta said your best shot at getting the station security codes and the clearance you need is the Legate. Legate… ugh, what the hell ever his name is they all sound the bleeding same anyway. He’s the only one that won’t tell you to sod off the second you contact him so you better remember his damn name._

“And how are we going to accomplish all of this Jules?” he says to himself turning to stare at the clothes littering the bathroom and beyond. “We’re going to let him bugger us senseless because Quark said- after you’d agreed to let him gouge you on his ‘finder’s fee’- the Legate had and still has amongst other things a weakness for feisty Bajoran women and…” Julian picks up one of innumerable replicated garments with a frown. _No this won’t do either._ He throws the mesh top over his shoulder with a huff. There’s a third chime as Julian reaches for a short synthetic blue skirt. “Can you wait one fucking minute longer I’ll be right there!” He doesn’t realize he’s ripped the garment neatly in two at the seam until he finds himself staring stupidly at the pieces. “Calm the hell down already, Jules. You can’t keep letting him get to you like this you need him. 

“If there’s one man here that can make the outfit- that can turn your already dashingly handsome- superbly sexy self into an exotic and tawdry creature that will be alluring and _unusual_ enough to catch the man’s attention it’s Garak.” _And you need the thing yesterday. The Defiant is going to be going on patrol soon and you need to time everything just right. There are no second chances- the man agreed to meet you on a total farce that Quark cooked up. He’s the only non-hostile one in the government not hiding under his bed for whatever’s spooked the lot of them and…_ “The hell with it,” Julian mutters darkly. He settles on slipping an oversized cream colored tunic over his head. It’s too large- he’s no tailor as the last few days of replicated failures prove- but it’s comfortable. The gold chain linked belt adds a bit more shape anyways. There’s a pair of black leggings draped over the sink and Julian throws them on hurriedly as well. He leaves the undergarments alone.

“Come in.” Julian unties his hair as he finally exits the bathroom, shaking it out in a wild mass of dark shoulder length waves. He looks up just as the door opens and the sight of Garak standing there smartly dressed in a long mustard yellow shirt nearly throws all the plans out the window. _You should test whether or not the drug worked._ That wayward thought slips in just as Garak does. Julian’s mouth feels dry. _The ring was empty but as little as you can remember that doesn’t mean a damn thing. Just a little test… a little playing won’t hurt anything and if Garak is with us instead of against us …_ Julian looks Garak up and down as he steps into the foyer. _No, a little playing won’t hurt at all to be sure he actually did ingest it. You have to be sure Jules, we absolutely must be sure. Right?_

Julian’s eyes then follow Garak’s to the mess and he frowns as he sees his own quarters with new eyes. There are clothes strewn about the main living area as well, dishes not properly put back into the replicator, and no end to the datapads. There’s also a broken glass on the dining table that somehow escaped his attention in the grander scheme of… ensuring Leeta’s compliance hastily swept into a pile of shards. The chair on the other side of the coffee table lies tipped over from a fit or sex and Julian has no idea why it didn’t occur to him until this moment how his living space must seem to an outsider. He tries to recall how many have been inside his quarters before when they were still tidy. _It couldn’t have been many. A slew of forgettable women who are no longer on station- no one who should be coming back and who the hell is he to judge after the mess he made of his own room when he was-_ Julian’s annoyance fades when Garak’s eyes turn back to him.

He runs fingers through his tangled hair with an apologetic look as he mentally prepares himself. _Alright, Jules, you need to make sure you get this costume exactly right. Who cares if he’s looking at you? If he’s… looking at you in a way he never used to. That’s the way he’s_ _supposed_ _to be looking at you. That’s the way they’re all supposed to look at us, dammit. We’re not the doctor. We don’t need to follow after him sniffing his arse like a stray dog._

“I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive the mess I haven’t had time to properly put things away.” He quickly throws several replicated shirts off the couch hiding his face as he ducks his head and concentrates on the task at hand. _Test? What are you thinking there’s no way you can assume such a risk just because  you want to-_ “There’s been a lot going on in the infirmary. I’m afraid Leeta’s been quite ill and I’ve been splitting my time between here and there...” He kicks a clear space in front of the sofa and looks up feeling a slight flush to his face as Garak’s eyes fall briefly to the tunic slipping off one shoulder. 

_Knock it off, you’re not some simpering maiden, you are_ _not_ _going to act like this every time he looks at you._ Julian nearly forgets to breathe as Garak focuses on the white strap and the round of his shoulder the mental chastisement completely forgotten already. Julian almost pulls the top back up but that focus makes him reconsider. _If it gets his attention if it holds it, if it distracts him then the plan will…_ _Yes… right… the plan._ Julian slowly walks closer determining that he can only stay on balance if he moves quickly and keeps the ball in his court. He tips his head to the side, letting his shoulder drop, letting the tunic slide just a little more trying to work Garak’s rare reticence to his advantage. “And yet in spite of all that, Garak it still seems as if _you’re_ the one who’s been absent.” _Nice, Jules. That sounds far less seductive and far more petulant. What next, are you going to tug as his sleeve and ask him to buy you a lolly?_

Garak still doesn’t say anything- it’s beginning to make Julian uneasy. He isn’t sure if he’s said something incorrectly or if Garak is offended by his disheveled state. Julian shifts from one foot to another mentally berating himself for being so hang dog about any potential censure when Garak places a hand on his shoulder. The effect is instantaneous. Julian freezes mid step and barely hides a hitch in his breath as Garak’s thumb gently strokes the lace of the strap. _Oh god…_

“I’ve always found the delicacy of human lacework an art to be admired but the replicator hardly does the _gros pointe_ justice.” Garak strokes the lace twined strap with a feather light delicacy. Julian stares ahead to the closed door trying to remember what breathing feels like.

“I... I’m sorry?”

“If I’ve been remiss in our… friendship, my dear, you have my deepest apologies,” Garak says making an abrupt subject change. Julian can still only nod dumbly as every sense seems to dull but for the warmth of Garak’s slightly calloused palm and the scent of something akin to faint clove… intermingled with that indeterminable something that is only Garak. 

“Well I… I can hardly expect to be the center of your universe,” Julian says with an emotion that he finds surprising as he speaks. Those eyes, tearing away from the door unconsciously follow Garak’s arm as the hand drops back to his side. Julian barely stops himself from grabbing that hand and just holding it tightly to his face.

“Nor I yours,” Garak says with a shake of his head that seems inexplicably regretful, “but as you’ve said you’ve been quite… busy as of late.” His usual gregarious expression returns looking almost mocking to Julian. “But you needn’t concern yourself. Constable Odo has proven a quite worthy replacement as my dining companion although I find he lacks your voracious appetite.”

“I’m sure the good Constable has many fine qualities,” Julian answers with a tight smile finding his mind shifting gears yet again. _Does he know? Do they both? No… no there’s no bloody way because I was far too careful..._ It’s in that moment Julian turns to ask Garak to sit when he notices the datapad no longer appears to be where he left it. _No worries, just give yourself a second to-_

“You’ll have to join us sometime when you’re not so involved in extracurricular activities. I think you’d find our topics of discussion enlightening.”

“Would I?” Julian murmurs head whipping back and forth almost comically. _Why the devil can’t I remember where the damn thing is?_ He’s not paying half as much attention to Garak as he should instead touching his own shoulder unconsciously, trying to scan the entirety of the room. _Christ you were looking at the thing before you left for your shift, Julian. Nonono not Julian Jules. Jules! You lost the pad. You lost track of Garak’s activity you can’t even remember your name why is he still talking?!_

“Indeed.” Garak’s eyes follow his. “I myself have learned a great many things about the station that were quite surprising.” 

“I’m afraid you’re going to need to give me a moment here.” Julian turns and quickly goes through a pile of datapads intermingled with clothes on the computer terminal before dashing over to the dining table. Garak either doesn’t hear him or ignores him as he continues talking taking a few steps further to the sitting area. 

“Did you know, for example, that there is a looking glass in Gocke’s that has been engineered not to display anything living that stands in front of it?” Julian doesn’t look up as he follows the terminal around to the dining table with quick efficiency tossing hosiery and a rather obscene pair of black panties. 

“Uh huh...” _God I know Cardassians love the sound of their own voices but if you’d stop talking for five seconds I could remember where I put it._  

Julian moves from one end to the other shoving a chair out of the way. Garak continues to smile at him serenely. 

“I haven’t had opportunity to see it for myself but I’m told it’s an impressive sight.” Julian’s attention goes next to the coffee table and another stack of datapads there. _It has to be here. You don’t forget anything. You vault it under lock and key but you sure as hell don’t-_ “It’s as if anyone looking into it were completely invisible.” Julian hurries over, in his haste nearly missing the tipped over chair. “I’m told it has to do with an array of sensors and an internal holoprojector but I’m no engineer.” Stepping over the fallen furniture is an automatic reaction as he looks at Garak no longer able to hide his frustration.

“Why are you blathering on about a-”

Julian trips. Or rather he easily avoids the chair and even twists his body to avoid knocking into the terminal; he doesn’t see the datapad on the floor as his foot comes down. The pad slips out from under him and while his arms are already out to catch himself and push back up in a fluid motion, he does not take into account one Elim Garak standing in the way. Julian’s eyes are wide as he finds himself falling into Garak- not crashing the both of them to the floor- neatly, effectively, caught. 

“Surely you can at least see the entertainment value,” Garak says not letting go of him. Julian’s face screws up unsure if Garak is poking some weird sort of fun at him. His hands are on Garak’s shoulders and while he hurriedly thinks to disengage his entirely body is rigidly still. 

Garak is holding him around the waist. Their bodies are pressed flush together and it makes Julian realize how precious little he’s wearing. _And when your body recovers from the shock… Oh god. Oh god oh god you need to just push him away already movemovemove!_

“Wh-what?” Julian’s voice is an embarrassing squeak and his eyes dart to Garak’s neck with the maddened impulse to bury his face so Garak can’t see him. Instead he drops his hands, arms forcing a modicum of space between their chests as he insinuates them as if to push Garak away. Julian doesn’t push him away. His hands- his sweat dampened palms remain shaking and Julian tries to turn himself even just a little to hide the rapid swelling of his cock. _There’s no way… there is no way that he doesn’t…_

“Say,” Garak moves his right hand and with painfully gentle guiding fingers to his cheek, turns Julian head to look at him directly. 

“If I were the mirror,” Julian’s fingers curl into the thick material of Garak’s shirt, his teeth biting tongue, cheek, anything to stop the arousal- the adrenaline from feverishly pulsing. “And you were standing in front of me.” Garak brushes aside Julian’s hair, exposing his face completely. You would be,” Julian- mind panic white- cannot imagine what Garak is seeing, what he is feeling, what he thinks he would be. Garak leans in and as Julian thinks, with pounding, dreadful certainty that Garak is going to kiss him, Garak speaks softly enough that his breath is a taunting tremble over his lips. “You are… completely transparent.” Julian can do nothing but focus his eyes entirely on Garak’s in that moment and he thinks that if he so much as pokes his tongue out to lick his lips, his won’t be the only ones he tastes.

“You’re… not a mirror,” is the only thing his wits can manage. 

“And yet, just like that, my dear. I can see right through you.” Julian holds back a nervous swallow almost falling over when Garak releases him. And without anything further, Garak straightens the tunic on his shoulder, with a small chiding for his lacking sense of color. Julian feels dizzy as if he might pass out. _Something had to have happened that night. That damn night you can’t remember because you let your guard down and passed out like some lush could ruin everything. Fix this, Julian._ _Now_ _._  

“I…” Nothing easily comes to him. Julian doesn’t understand why Garak keeps leaving him so off balance. “I just hope you don’t prefer his company to mine…” Julian trails off, his mind still somehow several steps back in the conversation. _What are you doing? This isn’t how this is supposed to be going at all. You’re not supposed to be falling all over yourself like the doctor, you’re not like that. You’re_ _nothing_ _like that._ Julian shakes his yes, and tries to refocus.

Garak is already walking over to the couch and taking a seat.

“Gocke? I’ve only had the pleasure of his acquaintance at the few meetings of the Merchant’s Association that I’ve attended.” Julian hides a wince once more acutely feeling the discomfort of his fading hardness as he tries to answer in a voice that’s halfway normal.

“Odo. Constable Odo, Garak.”He practically runs to the coffee table, putting his back to Garak remembering that he still needs to find the datapad. Julian bends over trying to will himself back into a state where he can focus as he continues the search discarding one datapad after another faster than any normal human should be able to parse the contents. Julian doesn’t care. _There’s no way he didn’t notice that. Why hasn’t he said anything? Surely he’d not be sitting down so calmly if you offended him. What do you want from me, Garak? What are you_ _doing_ _to me?_

He stares at the empty table top, palms flush on the surface with his head down. _Just take a moment. The hell with him just take a moment to_ _think_ _. You can’t let this get to you. You can’t keep second guessing. You’ve never doubted yourself. You never doubted your abilities, your power…._ Julian almost jumps like a cat when he hears Garak speaking again. He knocks over another glass and stifles a curse as water splashes the floor.

“You’ll forgive me for allowing myself to be so sidetracked since my arrival. Certainly your enlightening company is reward itself, my dear, but I believe you asked me here on a matter of business?” Garak’s voice behind him is so solicitous it makes Julian want to pick the glass up and throw it at his head.

“I should think it’s quite obvious.” Julian makes a sweep of his arm to indicate the complete state of disarray the room is in. He still sounds far too breathless and speaks more slowly, more deliberately to try and mask it. “You can see how desperately I need you.” He tries not allow himself to think about what just happened. Julian himself doesn’t even know and he needs time that he doesn’t have. There’s a pregnant pause and Julian takes the opportunity to close his eyes and replay his morning instead of considering his words. He forgets entirely his position bent over the coffee table. 

“Yes, it’s quite obvious indeed,” Garak answers with a murmur that almost as heated- Julian only barely hears the words. He hears none of the tone.

“What?” Julian stands up and turns around, pinching the bridge of his nose as the blood rushes to his head all at once. 

“Your need, of course, is terribly obvious.” Garak explains in a completely normal voice. He too makes a sweeping gesture towards the mess. “And while I certainly hate to disappoint, I’m afraid my talents lie more to the manufacture of clothes than their cleanup.” Julian laughs softly as his vision clears, sitting down on the sofa considering the ridiculousness of the situation. He decides if Garak is willing to pretend none of that had happened he can play that game too. _Alright Jules, now stop laughing. If you start you might very well not be able to stop and you can describe it to him without the damn sketches if you have to_. He swallows the next bit of laughter.

“Much as I’m sure that I could use a maid, that’s hardly why I need your services…” 

Julian tries to think of the best way to broach the subject when he turns and sees a datapad in Garak’s hand. It’s in that same moment he notices Garak parsing it carefully, the sketches on brilliant display. There occurs in that moment a point in which his mind has been stressed enough that he is beyond an immediate impulsive reaction. Instead, Julian pulls his right leg up to his chest before he kicks the offending thing across the room. He doesn’t allow himself to consider how long Garak might have had it. It wouldn’t surprise him if he’s somehow even had it from the start. Julian swallows the hysterical laughter. It’s no longer the white panic that he sees but a blank blackness like space stretching out behind him. He isn’t sure if that’s good but he seizes it nonetheless to focus holding up a finger in the hopes that Garak will give him an unquestioning moment of calm. He doesn’t know why but Garak does.

_Ten... nine... eight... seven... the seven main biological themes are cellular organization, reproduction, metabolism, homeostasis, heredity, evolution, interdependence..._ He draws a slow breath and he closes his eyes, opens them- resumes normal blinking. _Seven point three six five is the proper PH of blood regulation for homeostasis in humans... six... five... Regulate pulse, respiration... Calm. Down. Jules._ He stops at four and looks at Garak coyly with a lazy yawn. 

“You said should I find myself in need of new attire that I should come to you first.” Julian smiles as his tone turns teasing. _See, Garak. I’m the one in control here. Not you. You had tour chance and now it’s my turn._ “As you can see in spite of a mass of efforts that have yielded nothing but a dreadful mess I find myself in need of a professional.” Julian rests his head on his knee, watching Garak from a whimsical sideways view curious to see if he’ll give anything away. _My game. My world. Me me me._

Garak’s face is the picture of said professional as he studies the drawings and Julian is slightly disappointed that his face reveals nothing. He catches the flicker of Garak’s focus from the datapad to his own attire and he tries not to overthinking the repercussions.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Garak says making no move either closer or further away. “But this would appear to be twenty second century earth neo classical nineteenth century revival popular amongst the youth counter culture movement…” He looks thoughtful and Julian is impressed in spite of himself. “Steampunk, I believe though humans come up with such abstract names for so many cultural affectations I may be wrong...” Garak looks at him quite smugly then and they both know he is completely correct. Julian, for his part, lifts his head up looking honestly in awe.

“You really knew that,” is out of his mouth with wonder as if he were once more the doctor. He blinks a few times in confusion digesting his own tone and comment with disbelief. Garak’s play neatly cleaves his in half. 

Julian doesn’t notice Garak’s expression change just for a moment with the slip up as he quickly drops his knee and rubs his sweaty palm nervously over his pant legs.

“I _am_ of course, a tailor, doctor and on a station such as this I’ve found it useful to familiarize myself with even the most unlikely of fashions.” Garak’s attention is back to the datapad, his mouth pursed in what seems to be complete scrutiny as if to give Julian privacy to panic unnoticed. “Although if I may ask as a point of cultural reference, was it customary for this period to interchange gender specific archetypes? That seems unlikely given what I little I know of Earth history.” 

Julian’s eyes narrow cautiously but Garak still isn’t looking at him. He’s still reviewing the series of sketches hardly paying any notice. Julian nibbles thoughtfully on the tip of his finger as he parses several answers, sitting back on the couch only catching Garak out of the corner of his eye as he stares at the ceiling. _There are so many ways to answer that, Julian you have to be careful here. Whatever the legate finds fitting to his appetites are hardly the standard for the whole damn race and if you bollocks this up.._. _But you have an opportunity. You have a chance to actually ferret something out of Garak for a change even if it is only in his reaction and you were too wrapped up in yourself back there to even consider if he was… if he was-_

“You’re right, of course.” Julian decides in favor of boldness. “It is still considered an abnormality for a man to don women’s apparel in most situations. Some might even say it’s a perversion but rather I find…” It’s then he notices a quick flicker of Garak’s eyes to his neck, those eyes trailing over to the thin sliver of strap and Julian feels a heat that’s nearly palpable. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that Garak might in fact have been as excited as him. He knows the thought should not please him the primal, visceral way that he does. Julian can feel it pooling, rising, and he crosses his right leg over his left to try and relieve a small bit of the pressure. He cannot be sure if Garak is truly watching him or if it’s nothing but sexually fevered imagining. He squirms ever so slightly.

Whatever the case, Julian does not dare let on that he notices the attention instead trailing his fingers from his mouth down over his lower lip as if still contemplating the finished thought. _Give me something, Garak, just a little more, God just give it to me already._ Julian’s fingers dance down over his chin, careful to still keep his eyes primarily on the ceiling even as he passes his hand down his throat- to his bare collarbone. Nothing. He can’t wait any longer.

“I find life without a little sexual deviance to be utterly boring.” Fingers circle the hollow of his throat. “I find a certain excitement in pushing those carefully established boundaries. I find…” His voice has a slight dreamy quality to it as the confession spills forth. “I find there to be a certain alluring ultra-sexualization contained within a tube of cherry red lipstick.” 

Julian watches out of his peripheral vision almost suffocating himself so as not to miss a single flicker or sound. He almost thinks the entire series of events has been nothing but a licentious delusion until he sees Garak drop his eyes more deliberately to the datapad and grip it harder. _Yes that’s it. You don’t need to say it. You don’t need to tell me. I don’t know what I’d do if you’d reacted differently but you like it, right? You have to like it, Garak or what the hell is the use of-_

“Blue.” Garak sets the datapad down on the seat between them no longer looking at him. Julian hates that he’s too afraid to sit up and face him head on because he wants to question the meaning of that word. The beating of his heart, the sudden lightheadedness makes him wonder if every last bit of his blood hasn’t rushed downward. Julian’s throat constricts and he realizes that he’s still holding his breath. “I would see you in a brilliant metallic blue,” Garak whispers with a shaky breath.

“Of course, I feel a certain obligation to tell you,” he continues with the next breath so calmly that Julian is convinced he completely imagined Garak’s reserve falter. “that the price you’ll find yourself paying for… what you’re seeking might be higher than you’re willing to accept.” Julian takes a deep breath try and steady the anger he feels at the perceived challenge. _You’re still toying with me. You’re still underestimating me. What was that back there then? A game? More lies?_ He feels a sense of déjà vu and sees that pulse red. _I have to do this._ Julian looks at Garak, lips tight as he sits up. he doesn’t dare look away. _You can read me? You know me so well, Garak. Why don’t we just see who’s in over their damn head. And why shouldn’t I test you? Why shouldn’t I use you? If you’re loyal. If you really are under my control then I’m holding all the cards no matter what you think you know. Yes, that’s it Julian, you’re better than this. And if it fails... if you have to bow and scrape or let him bugger you… bend over the table for far more than a stupid datapad begging him to…_ Julian fidgets with the chains feeling blood rushing back everywhere at once. He licks his lips. _Yes, that would be absolutely awful, now, wouldn’t it?_

“I think you’ll find that I’m willing to do anything to get what I want, Garak,” Julian answers softly, dangerously. “How soon can you work something up?” He sees Garak pouring over the datapad once more, his own gaze moving to focus intently over his shoulder on the window outside behind them. _There is an entire universe out there. And here you sit waiting to pull divinity from the heavens and take your seat amongst the highest celestial Parnassus- waiting for one tailor to finish reading one stupid datapad only to give you a number. Time. Time is far too short and time like death is for those who lack the mettle to conquer them both. But for now Julian, you have less than a few weeks before Sisko and the others will be off station and you need to account for your own necessary infection from Leeta’s in order to be sick enough to stay behind. No one of any substance will be here to witness your recovery once you give yourself the antidote and you can always feign a little weakness and coughing if need be-_

“I should have a timetable for you in the morning,” Garak says abruptly and stands before Julian even finishes turning around. “If there’s nothing further…” _What?_ Julian cannot hide the panicked look that escapes him. _Did he just? No… no not like this. Not all this buildup, this anxiety for this dammit!._ Nothing clever immediately comes to mind and all he can do is yell a hurried, “Garak, wait!” before Garak practically runs out the door with him chasing behind like a pathetic child. Julian is unable to meet Garak’s sharp eyes when he stops and turns back around. He doesn’t see the look of crumbling restraint. He doesn’t see the look of desire- of disappointment. Julian doesn’t notice anything but the pounding rush of blood from rising so quickly and the cacophony of screaming chaos inside his head as he tries to think of any one thing that will keep Garak there. “I…” _What the hell are you doing?! You can’t do this. You have to do the test. You need to let him leave before he suspects. He can’t leave! You can’t risk this. You can’t do this. I don’t want to be alone. You can’t leave me here by myself! Dammit I can’t be alone!_ “Iamthekey!”

The loudness of Julian’s voice surprises even himself. He nearly jumps, both hands coming up over his mouth as if he could call the words back- as if he were a child caught by his parents saying a dirty word. Julian feels suddenly nauseous and lightheaded pressing the hands over his mouth harder. He can feel the tremble of his fingers and waits for time to stop its slow crawl and speed back to normal. His legs are weak and as his eyes remain hyper focused in terror on Garak he finally sinks to his knees looking up. Julian almost closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to face Garak standing in front of him staring, looking down. Julian keeps looking at Garak’s dark brown shoes until the texture blurs in front of his eyes and tears pinprick his dry retinas. Julian cannot properly quantify if his perception has sped beyond the human or if Garak is really taking this long to answer him. Julian holds his breath feeling as if he’s going to hyperventilate. 

 “I am the lock,” comes from Garak’s lips in a perfect monotone just as Julian finally dares to look up- just as he finally resolves to shove him out the door, throw every piece of furniture he can move, and hide under the covers to keep the demons at bay. Julian drops his hands, once more wiping them on his leggings. The tunic is still slipping sinfully off his shoulder but he lets it remain. He takes a shuddering breath as he stands back up nearly shaking for an entirely different reason this time. _It still works...._

 

Julian steps back eyes bright with a feverish excitement.

 

“Well then… let’s get started, shall we?”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re moving steadily towards the crux of the explicit rating so stay tuned for that. Also I want to give warnings for blood, more somewhat dubious consent, and mind fuckery. This got very long but there really wasn’t any way to break it up. C&C is always welcome and thank you to everyone reading!

_Julian sat back in the chair in front of the large display, arms crossed thoughtfully as he examined the screen._

_“Alright, Jules, we’re getting close to the final transmission and Liz said they need to hear from you directly. They’re not content with just the recordings. She says she’s not a natural orator and if you want to get anything done properly… They need to be tossed a few bones- just enough to convince some of the more… skeptical converts that what we’re about to build on our new world is worth the sacrifice. That when the abandon their positions, when they leave behind the mighty Federation… And you need an engineer, Jules because those supplemental engineering classes just aren’t going to cut it with the time...” Julian trailed off with a sigh resting his head back against the chair. “Good. Better. Bested.” He replayed the day’s earlier conversation with Miles frowning. “I’m not counting you out yet, Chief. You’re angry now but… you’ll see it you_ _have_ _to. If you don’t understand when I’m not even so sure I do myself then…” He sat up suddenly looking piqued. “I’m not_ _playing_ _God, dammit I_ _am_ _-”_

_“Saint Julian.” A vial was tossed in his direction and without conscious thought Julian caught it mentally cursing himself as he pulled off what should be an impossible feat by human standards. He’d raised his head at the name he hadn’t heard in almost fifteen years and nearly cringed at mistake number two. He considered the potentially damning content of the screen and reached the third strike before he even turned around._

_“Computer, end program.” Julian looked down at the vial in his hand before turning to see Michael Eddington standing behind him in the darkened doorway. It wasn’t his old name but the catalyst for the drug to which Eddington referred. He considered the vial again realizing that feigning ignorance would require a master feat of acting that he wasn’t sure he was up to. Julian looked at him warily, almost nervously as he set it down carefully on the console._

_“It’s ah... rather late to be about, isn’t it?” He turned the warm cylinder around in his palm._

_“I think that’s supposed to be my line, Doctor Bashir,” Eddington answered with a wry grin. “Now that’s not a very nice expression.” Julian took a deep breath unaware of how quickly and easily his face betrayed his anger at being called “doctor”. It was only in hearing that mocking tone that Julian seemed to become painfully aware of the tightness in his facial muscles. He forced a neutral expression back to the forefront bringing fingers up to his temples with a pained expression_

_“Sorry I just… I tend to get caught up in my work which is um… private so… something I’m working on…” Julian coughed, eyes flickering like the monitor only a few moment ago. “And I’m still having a few difficulties here and... Would you mind terribly just giving me a moment to-”_

_“Oh that’s right, you_ _do_ _go by ‘Jules’ now, don’t you?”Eddington stepped further into the auxiliary room of the infirmary. The metamorphosis in Julian’s demeanor was immediate- Eddington’s shrewd eyes didn’t miss any of it. Julian set the vial down carefully as he turned the chair around with an assessing gaze. All traces of nerves had vanished._

_“I can see you’re a man that doesn’t miss much, Mr. Eddington. Was there… something I could help you with?” His body shifted slightly and he seemed far more like a serpent waiting to strike. Eddington took another step nearly into his personal space not looking the slightest bit threatened._

_“I just have a few questions pertaining to the vial and what I’ve caught here and there. You see, Jules, I have a big decision to make and right now you’re the only one who can help me make it.”_

_“I like to help where I can…” Julian looked up at his looming figure from beneath eyes accented with pencil to be even darker than usual. “I am a man of many talents, after all.”_

_“Oh I’m sure you have many talents indeed but I need to be sure of your loyalties shall we say before I decide whether or not to turn you over to Odo or…”_

_“Or?” Julian looked more curious than afraid. He scoffed lightly. “Mr. Eddington, if you truly wished to… do your sacred duty to the Federation as it were, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.” Julian watched carefully as Eddington let his eyes pass over in a sweeping, unreadable examination. Julian appeared to process and take note of every focus of that attention_

_“You’re a smart man, Jules. Now me, I might not be the… Moriarty to your Holmes but I’d like to think that we might be able to come to a mutually beneficial agreement.” Julian assumed an even more calculated look to this, fingers starting to twine the chains which hung around his neck thoughtfully. He was clearly contemplating how he was going to handle the man in front of him. There was a way that seemed to him in how Eddington looked at him from above- an interest that to Julian might warrant exploitation._

_He kept his stare steadily letting it rise with all the heat he could muster playing that gamble cooly._

_“Well… before you go running off to the good Constable… before you go… baring my dark little secrets for all the world to see… perhaps I might be… amenable to a little tit for tat.” His voice, pitched low was practically a purr, his head resting back against the chair with far more blatant sexuality than Dr. Bashir ever displayed in public or private._

_“I gotta tell ya, I tend to prefer tits to the tat.” Eddington smiled far more amused than aroused as he crossed his arms and leaned against the console with a few steps. Julian gave a small shrug._

_“Well as vast as my talents are even I-”_

_“Would you mind humoring me for a second? You can imagine working with the Constable I don’t get much in the way of humor on the job and…” Eddington trailed off with a soft laugh causing Julian to lower his hands, eying him warily. “Just a little test of a theory I have is all.”_

_“I’m not sure that I-”_

_“Are you an admirer of Victor Hugo, Dr. Julian Bashir?” The question caught him off guard- the address more so. Eddington had affected a certain command to the name that would have confused him had it not instead caused a more telling initial reaction. Julian had made sure to let everyone know not to refer to him by that name or address as he himself had observed an increasingly more dramatic effect each time it was called. Bearing that out, in that moment the other self known as Jules was erased from the board entirely to be replaced by the serious countenance of Julian proper. His face flickered to a look of genuine thought, a weighty contemplation of the question as if he were completely unaware of the circumstances surrounding Eddington’s presence. Unbeknownst to Julian, Eddington paid close attention to that change with satisfaction confirming an unknown suspicion._

_“I…” Julian swallowed and cleared his throat dropping the chains, sitting up straight in the chair looking at him uncertainly. “I’d have to say where nineteenth century earth literature is concerned I’m more a fan of Dostoevsky.” Julian looked away under the scrutiny uneasily. “Is ah… that all you had wanted to ask me?” Eddington stepped away from the console as if deciding something, walking in front of Julian keeping his arms crossed._

_“That’s where you and I differ, doctor. I could never live in a world without heroes.” He looked at the monitor above Julian’s head showing nothing but a dark screen. It seemed as if every answer in the universe was to be found in that blackness by the way he examined it. Julian found himself turning back and looking at it as well._

_“Heroes, as you would term them aren’t gods. They’re just as you and I, flawed, imperfect, wretched creatures blindly groping to escape their more ego centric natures.”_

_“And in your world no one rise above the masses to lead them to God?” Julian sighed with a sad resignation._

_“Despite what religion… what God, the Prophets, the man in the moon would have you believe, Mr. Eddington, evil cannot be vanquished by morality alone…” Julian looked down more talking to himself than anything else. “Sometimes only a monster can destroy a monster.”_

_“I never figured you for such a nihilist, Dr. Bashir.” Julian laughed softly, bitterly, glancing at Eddington’s feet._

_“If that were the case I wouldn’t be sitting here damning everything that I’ve worked for, everything I’ve ever believed in to...”He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand given your position-_

_“But the only true good is to be found in freedom. Is that what you were going to say, doctor?” Julian had started at the sudden interruption, wincing at the tug of hair he’d started to twine around his fingers. He looked at his hand bordering on bewilderment at the long strands. Eddington never took his eyes off of him._

_“Why do you refuse to call me by my name?” Julian asked softly. “Why do you keep calling me…_ _that_ _?”_

_“Because something tells me, doctor, that I don’t want to call you by your name- by_ _that_ _name.” Julian’s face looked pained._

_“Then why don’t you just tell me what you want from me, Mr. Eddington. Or hand me over to Odo and Captain Sisko already. I have… I have work to do and-” He brought his fingers to his forehead once again with a pained look. Again the feigned disability went ignored._

_“Are you a religious man, Jules?” The name was spoken with sympathetic caution- as if saying it would bring forth from Pandora’s Box all the evils in the world. Yet at the same time Eddington stood in front of him, studying him with undisguised interest. Julian blinked a few times, losing the shrinking posture he’d assumed. His interest in his own appearance faded, eyes lazily twining the lock of hair around his finger with haughty disinterest._

_“Without God, everything is permitted,” he quoted with a soft laugh. “If I may make one more allusion to our dead idols.”Eddington laughed as well though the cause did not seem obvious to Julian._

_“And here I thought you called yourself a saint.”_

_“Saint Julian? Is that what you’re referring to? The trigger to activate the Phoenix virus… yes.  Your powers of deductive reasoning are astounding Mr. Eddington. Or did Odo have to help you with that one?” Julian tilted his head with a contented smirk. “This cup_ _is_ _the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you… but really…” Julian affected an exaggerated yawn. “It’s merely a coincidence that we share a name.” Julian shrugged. “Unless you don’t believe in coincidences, of course but then again.” He stretched with deliberate affectation- the picture of arrogance. “That would be your problem, not mine.”Eddington, far from being baited merely produced an isolinear rod from his closed hand. Julian looked at it warily._

_“See, now this is why I prefer speaking to the doctor, Jules.”_

_“What’s on that?” Julian hissed, looking ready to wrap his hands around Eddington’s throat. That smile was still on Eddington’s face as he pocketed the rod again._

_“I told you when I first arrived on Deep Space Nine that I was here to make friends. See, I can be friendly with Doctor Bashir but you-“_

_“I asked you a question, Mr. Eddington.”Julian rose slowly, nails digging in to the chair. He kept that furious expression trained on Eddington who was making his way languidly towards the door with a few steps back._

_“You did at that.” Julian’s eyes started darting back and forth between Eddington’s face and the pocket which held the rod. “You know, Jules, some would say the Maquis also believe that the only true good is to be found in freedom. That as long as we are bound to-“_

_“What in the bloody hell does a motley group of anti-federation_ _terrorists_ _have to do with anything,” Julian snarled._

_“You have something they want,” Eddington answered softly, his own voice taking on a deadly serious tone. Julian stalked him, by now trying to judge whether or not he could just take the rod. His right foot slid just a fraction forward preparing to move. He did not harbor any doubt of his speed or reflexes. Eddington didn’t seem to notice and right when his eyes glanced down, Julian moved. He found nothing but the wall in front of him turning by instinct. “It doesn’t matter how fast you are,_ _doctor_ _-” Eddington wielded the name like a weapon and the moment he heard it Julian faltered. He was slammed painfully against the wall mid-turn, his left arm twisted behind his back. “If I can read what you’re about to do,_ _doctor_ _and believe me, whatever you’ve done to yourself, you’re no soldier.”_

_The repeat of that name hammered at him and Julian stopped fighting, breathing heavily. He shut his eyes tightly shaking his head furiously._

_“Don’t. Call me that.”_

_“No, I think I’d much rather deal with Doctor Bashir,” Eddington didn’t let up but only used enough pressure to hold Julian steady. “Now I think that whether or not we see eye to eye on all things related to the literature and humanism… well that shouldn’t get in the way of us being buddies? Of us... helping each other, now should it?” Julian opened his eyes looking weary._

_“What makes you think I want to help you drag out a pointless fight to even more pointless deaths? Nothing good will ever come from this hopeless crusade.” Julian had ceased any struggle and Eddington let him go. He looked at Julian far more seriously as he slowly turned back around._

_“All the forces in the world are not so powerful as an idea whose time has come. Hugo again, though I’m sure it means little to you.” Julian reflexively rubbed his wrist looking down at the floor. He was silent for a long while._

_Whether contemplating the words or something else, he himself was not certain. Julian shook his head before looking at Michael Eddington with a lifetime of sadness._

_“I believe it was Rimbaud who wrote ‘I’m in the depths of an abyss and I have forgotten how to pray’.”_

_“There’s no need to pray, doctor. Just say yes.” Julian breathed in deeply before squaring his shoulders with the determination of a man accepting his own death._

_“Then tell me what you need me to do.”_

 

The first thing that Garak sees is blood. Or rather, he sees Julian standing in front of him with lips painted a dark brazen red that immediately call to mind the image of the same with blood spilling from between them. _Julian brought the knife to his mouth and let the blade slip faintly between his parted lips. The sharpness of the metal cleanly bit through the delicate skin and there seeped over the polished surface a line of crimson that trickled over the blade and down the side of Julian’s mouth. Julian’s eyes shut in that moment, a shiver passing through his body as he swallowed. Garak watched dark eyes open to search his face with a doctor’s careful scrutiny._

_“Did you think I was lying, Elim? When I said it was sharp?”_

_“No.” Julian searched for any sign in that response that Garak might not be completely under his control; he found none. Julian leaned in towards him with that sinful mouth spread wide in a grin that was a masochistic obscenity. Garak the tailor should not have found it half as arousing as he did. It was not the tailor whose breath quickened when Julian’s head tilted, salty tongue swiping over his lips and-_

And Garak forces the image from his mind. That isn’t the Julian who’s here in the present. This Julian does not make an intensive study of every facet of his face. This Julian stands in front of him with an expression that’s an obvious mixture of surprise and horror- a surprise which saves Garak the explanation of the silence he’s recklessly allowed to stretch between them. _You’re already getting sloppy, Elim. If he weren’t standing there running through a million pretty lies without so much as a how do you do it would be_ _you_ _who appears suspect_. Julian does not even stare at him. His eyes are distant as they fixate on some point of his clothing to give an illusion of attention. It does not escape Garak’s notice that Julian is waiting for him to make the first move. _But that isn’t how this works, my dear. The first rule of a good interrogation is that it should never be the interrogator who speaks first_. Julian stammers his name with a confusion that isn’t rehearsed and it is those words that begin the dance. 

Garak holds his tongue knowing that the more one believes themselves to be watched the more affected their behavior will become. He does not believe- as Julian stands there with those very red lips in the costume Garak had designed for him- that it is some sort of Earth custom to wear one’s finest attire when ill. Julian confirms this with a slight unconscious crossing of his arms. He also does not believe- as Julian next feigns a cough- that Julian is in fact ill. Julian was definitely ill two days ago when the Defiant departed. But today there is a healthy glow to the tanned skin that belies the weak voice that he immediately adopts. Garak does not allow any of this to register on his face. He keeps his expression painted with solicitous concern as Julian places a hand over his mouth and coughs a few more times. A quick mental comparison shows these are closer to the mark. 

“My apologies if I’m… interrupting something?...” Garak trails off with just the right amount of hesitance in his voice. He allows that concern to encroach further onto his face which in turn leads to Julian’s posture becoming less defensive. His arms uncross, one pressed to the doorway as if to hold himself up, the other fidgeting with the bodice of the corset. Garak has come to associate that mannerism with shrewd consideration and a quick look to Julian’s briefly unguarded face confirms that assessment. Garak makes a quick study as Julian thinks about his answer. _You have, or should I say had- if I recall- some sort of upper respiratory infection and yet you have that cinched tight enough to…_

Garak’s thoughts unintentionally stray, much to his chagrin, from analyzing to admiring. _It is tight enough to create that exotic hourglass, that flair of hip contrasting the narrow male waist_. _Really, one might say you’ve outdone yourself, Elim but no matter how delicate the lacework, how perfectly layered and tailored the dark red skirts, they didn’t look half as stunning hanging off the mannequin as they do now._ _How_ _did_ _you manage to cinch that so perfectly on your own, Julian? Have you been practicing with any of those other garments I had chance to glimpse? And surely even for you that must be just so painfully… tight._ He can tell that much even with the black fitted jacket which lay open over top. Garak allows his eyes to travel down further lest he become unforgivably distracted. He notes the boots- these of Julian’s own creation- adding the few extra inches of height. Garak unwittingly remembers a rambling story overheard in Quark’s nearly a year ago involving a taller sex partner and an act he’s certain Morn couldn’t duplicate if paid. It isn’t Morn that he imagines as he blinks slowly, refocusing those pupils to turn them away from a stare that would be all too obvious in its desire. 

“No… no, not at all. You’re ah… not interrupting me.” Julian ducks his head, wearing the doctor’s sheepishness like a carefully crafted armor. Garak’s mind is back to the game. _The entire senior ops and security are gone._ Julian’s voice is still artfully strained. _The only one left on the station of any rank is you._ “I must confess to going a bit stir crazy being cooped up here.” Julian looks down at what he’s wearing self-consciously. “Everything fits perfectly… as you can see…” He inadvertently looks past Garak down the hall and that small slip does not escape Garak’s attention. _Yes, the esteemed Legate Corat has decided to make a somewhat sudden nostalgic visit hasn’t he? I recall him to be an infinitely hedonistic slug of a man notable for little more than his profligate exploits on Terok Nor while here as Dukat’s guest… remanded suddenly to Cardassia Prime following a suspicious incident. His greatest accomplishment lying in one of his little pets trying to assassinate Dukat with him escaping justice..._ “I… er… don’t mean to be rude but I’m really not feeling well so was there something you needed?” _Major Kira would never let him on the station unless he had business of the state- perhaps not even then. And what reason would he have away from his comfortable life of debauchery? Weapons? Intrigue? No, there’s only one reason that such a man would be here and it all comes down to-_

“Garak?” Julian’s voice interrupts his wandering musings. Another look at Julian’s face shows that there still isn’t a single hint of his other self to be found. _But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want Julian back in his right mind. He’s giving every indication of being the exact same man you remember. There’s only the slightest hint of any of his alter ego’s affected mannerisms. That’s good. That’s the goal in all this… except… If he’s “back to normal” as they say then why is he still going through with this madness? He should be doing whatever he can to stop it. You remember his reactions on the tape…. But you can see that he’s far from comfortable… there’s definitely something there._ It nearly gives Garak second thoughts.

“Of course, I’m sure you wish to rest…” Garak trails off before giving a small poke to that nervousness. “I’m afraid however, that I would be remiss if I were to leave you in such a debilitated state so callously.”

“Really, Garak,” The protest is immediate and alarmed as Garak thought it would be. “There’s no need to put yourself out like that surely your customers-“

“-would understand the necessity of my absence.” Garak watches that discomfort grow. _What you need right now, Elim, is time, and that’s something you’re running short on. Just do it already. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you can’t afford to let sentimentality get in the way._ “Spare me the protests,” he declares dramatically, “I have an entire list of objections Lieutenant Dax was kind enough to provide that she knew you would give me. You don’t need a nursemaid. You can take care of yourself. I’m busy- _you_ are an esteemed doctor and know your limitations. Am I missing anything? No? Now, you’re not going to divert me from the reason for my visit. Lieutenant Dax and Chief O’Brien were quite concerned for your well-being after Leeta’s illness took such a serious-“

“She was never in any-“ Julian snaps his mouth shut immediately his entire body tense. Garak thinks that if he grips the wall any harder he may very well snap a piece of it off. _There. That’s the doctor I was looking for. There’s the guilt. There’s the panic, and there’s the confirmation that whatever you’re planning it’s quickly coming to a head. But that still isn’t the why of it._ Julian bends over as if in pain to try to hide the slip while he coughs again more forcefully. Garak softens his tone, lowering his voice watching as Julian is forced to bring the fit to a halt in order to hear him. 

“I can see, of course that you aren’t nearly that sick, however I did give my word that I would at the very least look in on you and I am if nothing else a man of my word.” 

The retort to that bait doesn’t come. Julian straightens up with a deep breath, his eyes flitting nervously sideways.

“I’m well within the normal parameters for recovery...” Julian settles for tracing the line of the corset bodice with his fingers once more before pulling together another uneasy little smile. He also begins to simultaneously smooth the layers of skirt fidgeting. “So you see there’s no need to worry. You’ve had your look. That’s all you need, right? Just a look?... I should be well past any chance of transmission but I... I couldn’t possibly forgive myself if you were to fall ill on my account...” That face pleads with him so earnestly that Garak’s turn of degenerate thought is nearly unforgivable. But rather than prompt him to walk away it only makes him want to come inside that much harder.

_You need to hurry, Elim. Everything you remember about Corat speaks to his tendency towards tardiness but you know better than anyone that the more reinforced the pattern the more likely it will be broken at the most inopportune of times._

“Perhaps if you’re still this unwell it might warrant a trip to the infirmary from the patient end… Julian.” Garak makes sure to use the most precise inflection when speaking Julian’s name. He sees a blink of surprise at the unexpected address but it is quickly superseded by the conditioning he’d put into place all those weeks ago. _Of course there was the chance that it would fail after the initial suggestion but it seems the rest of the station did their part to unknowingly reinforce it. And even without the right nuance I can tell already that it’s nearly set to perfection._

“Don’t… don’t call me that,” he says with genuine fear that makes Garak feel very cruel. _Cruelty is just a byproduct of necessity, that’s one of the first things that Tain, taught you. You’re not doing him any kindness by allowing this to continue in any case- whatever is going on it will surely destroy him. You have to be certain that it’s really him doing this. You have to know that it’s real that’s it’s not just in your head when he… Stop that._ Julian stares hard at the floor between them taking a step back. 

“Well I understand it might be somewhat familiar,” Garak offers to the protest, “but I think we’ve passed the point of such formality, have we not?” 

“That’s not what I… It would really be best… if you forgot about all that, Garak.”

“If I forget?...” Julian shakes his head. 

“Nevermind all that I don’t know what I’m saying I just…” He takes a deep breath, eyes far too bright. “The infirmary. Just forget about all that. It’s not that I don’t appreciate doctors of course I am one right but…” He shuffles his feet. “I’ve just never been comfortable myself on the other side of the tricorder is all that I mean- I mean of course they _do_ say doctors make terrible patients themselves but barring all that I…” he licks his lips nervously, trailing off the rambling stream of conscious and brushes the hair behind his ear. Garak cannot help but find himself becoming distracted once more by the turn in the conversation.

_“I used to be afraid of doctors when I was a child.”_ Garak hears that voice echo in his head and he tenses his jaw painfully to keep himself in the present. It doesn’t help. _Garak felt the knife hilt placed into his hand even as he watched Julian raise fingers to his bleeding mouth. Julian did not attempt to staunch the bleeding. He allowed the fervent licking of the blood to cause it to flow more freely. Garak watched him feeling Julian’s fingers move over his, closing his hand around the warm grip. An ecstatic shudder passed through Julian’s body with every more delirious swipe of his lips until Garak could swear he was nearing his peak. His own body yearned for the same freedom of expression._

_“I used to think,” Julian half panted as he lead Garak’s thumb up the hilt and to the blade, “That they had the power of life and death.” He studied Garak’s face for any reaction as he let his own thumb brush the knife’s edge with a sharp perfect cut. The gasp that escaped Julian’s lips as he shut his eyes, letting the blood flood from the wound was unmistakably sexual. There was an arch to that back, a sway to that posture that just begged to be-_

“Alright…Take me to bed… Garak.” Julian’s voice is little more than a whisper yet he somehow hears it loud enough to cut through his sordid reverie. It is only through years of training that he keeps so much as a shift of his face carefully in check. Garak’s mouth is closed tightly to avert a quick intake of surprised breath and as Julian looks at him he imagines it must appear more severe than he intended. Julian looks for a moment as if he might want to shrink down and disappear but he doesn’t withdraw nor stop looking at Garak. _You knew exactly what you were saying when you phrased it that way_.The translator does not quite give it the same meaning but they both know with the universal look that passes between them. 

“How can I refuse an invitation like that?” Garak alters his tone again to a far more lighthearted flirtation. He gives a blatant look up and down that’s only partly for Julian’s benefit seeing him relax in more familiar territory. It’s enough of a shift for Julian to come back from whatever was troubling him giving Garak a shake of his head and a purely playful smile that he hasn’t seen in months. It nearly catches him off guard. Julian uncrosses his arms as he steps closer allowing the door to close behind them. Garak holds an arm out and Julian looks at him with mock disappointment.

“You’re not going to carry me?”

“Much as I would delight in such cliché human romanticism, my dear, I’m afraid my back might not be so amenable to the experiment.”

“What ever happened to being in the prime of your life?” Julian teases him with a small grin. 

_If only you knew, Julian that this side of you is far more difficult to handle than the hypersexual predator..._ Garak takes a deep breath subtle as he can manage when Julian’s arm slings over him.

“ _I_ am in the prime of my life, dear Julian my back on the other hand…” He cannot be certain if Julian is overplaying his physical impairment or if he truly does experience a boneless moment as he nearly falls into him. Garak’s arm is around him in a partial replay of the other night however he does not allow his hand to linger on that slender corseted waist.“I’m sure I merely strained it pouring over dress designs.”

“Well I certainly hope it wasn’t on my account.” Julian’s breath is a warm lick to his neck that Garak allows himself to savor.

“You may retire with a clear conscience; it’s more than likely a result of the last minute alterations for the bridal party.” 

“It’s more than likely lie upon lie and I’m sure your back is more than able to shoulder the weight of one painfully skinny doctor.”

Garak chooses to smile at him enigmatically in response as they navigate the cluttered floor to Julian’s room. Julian’s wrist hangs near his face and he looks at it, slender, graceful, long fingers clean and pristine without a hint of so much as a scar. Garak knows it’s only another trick of his mind- of his memory- but as he walks he flashes again to the blood. He smells the overwhelming coppery tang. He sees Julian with no Jules to hide behind licking blood from his bleeding thumb, and he hears the cultured voice breathless but no less eloquent in the silence of the room. _“Of course doctors are just as just as fragile, just as fallible as anyone else.” There was a thin red stream running down the inside of Julian’s wrist from that wound to his thumb. He’d cut himself more deeply than he’d thought to perhaps but far from drawing back he reveled in it. “But not me, Garak. Not doctor Julian Bashir.” He reached out slowly, that hand hypnotic in its sway. The blood from his mouth had run down Julian’s neck in a slow tapering off trickle down to that white tunic giving a small stain to the collar._

_“I’m better than that, Garak. I_ _need_ _to be better than that if I want to save the world- if I want to triumph over disease, over death… over everything that makes us painfully, hatefully… fragile.” Julian looked at the cut on his finger, watched it drip on the floor as he walked calmly to his med kit on the dining table. He retrieved a dermal regenerator taking care not to stain the case or the table. Julian walked back around in front of Garak, stroking the side of his face with the tip of the device._

_“In one hand, I hold death,” he whispered with a fascinating darkness that Garak had to amend suited him brilliantly. “In the other, life. But it’s not yet time for life...” Julian raised his other hand in front of Garak’s face. “…it’s time for a little death now.” Garak remained intently focused on Julian. “Do you need the blood?” The question was vague, abstract, Garak answering a monotone “yes” to find that thumb smearing sticky over his mouth. He did not lick until he was commanded and then it was with a breathless fervor that could not be feigned. Julian was panting in front of him, eyes bright and wanting, not even noticing as Garak half sucked the blood out of him a soft rumble in his throat threatening to rise to the level of a primal growl. It wasn’t Jules. It was every bit Julian. That realization made Garak so terribly desperate to- Julian pulled that thumb back leaving him wanting. He watched Garak carefully as he spoke, the words passing those lips in a husky whisper. “Hold the tip of the knife blade to your throat.”_

Garak blinks a few times standing in front of the door to Julian’s room. Julian is unreadable. He has been silent but for the shallow breaths drawn in Garak’s ear; a pale imitation of the heavy gasps that still linger in his memory. The door slides open and Garak feels himself fully pulled back into the present with the sight of Julian’s somehow pristine sleeping quarters fully coming into view. 

“Computer, lights.” The lights come on, the settings dim and warm. Julian disengages and shrugs the jacket from his shoulders. Under Garak’s scrutiny he folds the garment setting it on the edge of the bed.  Julian’s fingers trail over the fabric a moment longer than necessary leaving Garak time to study the skin of his bare shoulders. He turns, sitting down before letting himself fall backwards onto the bed in a flurry of skirts, arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the light overheard. Garak realizes his best chances to finish the task at hand lay with a subtle exit right now. _The best place would like be on the shelf against the wall under the_ -

“Will you be alright… by yourself?” The words leave his mouth of their own volition surprising even him. Julian is not in a position to see the look on his face as he speaks the counterproductive inquiry. He also does not see the way that Garak’s eyes without the counter scrutiny stare at the smooth skin of his armpit or his bared throat. 

“Thank you… Garak...” He says sounding tired, “I’ll be fine now.” The dismissal is clear. It makes perfect sense in light of everything Garak knows about the situation and it further cements that no, Julian was not playing some elaborate game of seduction but instead acting wildly on impulse. Garak continues to focus on Julian’s neck seeing a brief flash in his mind’s eye of blood running down. He remembers the salty taste of not just the blood but of Julian’s skin- of Julians thumb in his mouth. Garak finds himself taking a step forward watching the rise and fall of Julian’s chest.

“You should remove the boots,” he says, eyes moving down to long legs wrapped in leather and laces. Julian moves his arm and sits up looking at him curiously. He appears confused by Garak’s close proximity. Julian opens his mouth to speak but doesn’t get a chance to protest before Garak hurriedly continues. “Surely you wouldn’t want to imperil yourself upon waking suddenly and losing your footing.  You said that one of the secondary symptoms Leeta had exhibited was vertigo and I cannot think of a more perilous article of clothing than those heels.”

“You cannot possibly be serious.” Julian scoffs at him half incredulous. 

“Oh very serious indeed. Why in your condition, it would only take but a single wrong step, a moment of disorientation and then where would you find yourself? You should be so lucky as to only suffer a blow to your dignity but what if you were to break an arm? A leg?” _You are not saying this nonsense. Even in jest you cannot be lowering yourself to such folly in the midst of what should be-_

“Garak, you’re being ridiculous and I don’t... what are you doing?” Garak kneels on the floor in front of him looking up guilelessly. He doesn’t miss the way Julian’s expression changes from half-hearted irritation to an almost slack jawed intensity.

“It would reflect poorly upon me as a caretaker if I were to allow you to come to injury due to such thoughtlessness.” 

“I...” Julian swallows not pulling away when Garak guides his left leg to rest a foot on his thigh. “That isn’t...” Julian’s red lips are parted in a heavy panting breath. “That isn’t necessary... Garak.”

Julian’s voice cracks and he brings a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes wide. He looks to be afraid that another unintended vociferation will escape him.

“But that is where you are mistaken, dear Julian,” Garak says with a calm that he hardly feels. “It is very... _necessary_.” Garak’s fingers carefully trace their way up the boots, over the black laces threaded through brass grommets. Julian doesn’t tell him to stop. Garak’s left hand pushes the skirts up, the consummate professional as the hem is lifted above Julian’s knee, mid-thigh where the boot comes to an end. Julian’s hand turns, teeth biting his thumb but he still does not tell Garak to stop. _Smooth. Your skin is so very smooth. I had thought human males tended to have more body hair but... But you’re like caressing silk, like the satin of the skirt only so much more than that_. He traces the outline of the cuff around Julian’s thigh with a light tickling touch. 

“I’m not going to stop… if you don’t tell me to stop...” As the words are spoken Julian’s other hand digs nails into the mattress turning his head away. He kneads anxiously at both the sheers and the nape of his neck. 

“I…” Julian’s cheek rubs his shoulder torn between soft laughter at quick hiccupping gasps. His leg trembles faintly, the heel of the boot vibrating on Garak’s thigh sending a heady resonation through his entire lower half. 

“Do you _want_ me to stop?” Garak insinuates a finger inside the cuff of the boot feeling sticky sweat skin. There’s another hitch in Julian’s breath as he seems to hit a particular spot at the back of his knee. “It’s rare to find you at such a loss for words.” 

“I may… have a few choice words for you right now.” Julian’s voice is slightly muffled and if Garak were to look up he would see the hand hovering once more over Julian’s mouth to muffle not laughter but a soft moan. 

Garak’s response is itself wordless. He moves his finger, his hand sliding over the expanse of Julian’s thigh, reveling in the smooth soft skin beneath as he dares to tread higher. Garak sees Julian’s right leg splay ever so faintly to the side as he holds the left still. Garak imagines both legs spreading wide, Julian laying back, holding his arms open to offer everything to him. There is a visceral sense of possession at that thought which forces him to swallow a growl. He feels such a painful urge to crawl up Julian’s body, force those long legs to their limit and hold the backs of his thighs apart- violating, rutting like a savage animal. Garak reminds himself to wet dry lips, to breathe, the initial intent in the room long forgotten. 

“You haven’t answered my question,” Garak chastises with a thick voice squeezing Julian’s thigh, purposefully digging his thumb into the sensitive artery until he hears a softly halted hitch of what may or may not be pain emanating from above. _Pain, desire, they all blur into the same hedonism, don’t they, Elim? Somewhere along the way you’ve lost that careful restraint and I suspect it’s all thanks to-_

“Please, look at me.”

_“Look at me.”_ Garak looks up in spite of his better judgment and sees Julian with dilated desirous pupils, nails scraping the side of his neck trying to control himself. Garak sees the bloodied brazen incubus overlaying the hesitant needy doctor and it makes him aching hard in less than the time it takes him to blink and hear the phantom Julian whispering to him, _“Press the point into your throat just enough to make it bleed.”_ There is a ghost of a memory of Julian’s wet tongue lapping at the wound, fastening those lips to his neck like a creature out of the darkest human horror stories.

Garak looks at Julian knowing that as impassive as his countenance may be that there cannot possibly be any other interpretation of his hand on Julian’s thigh other than want. There is no utility in his thumb stroking the wildly thumping point of pressure of Julian’s inner thigh. There is no practical purpose of palm sliding higher up, squeezing every bit of flesh that he can grab as the satin slips over the back of his hand The lace bunches on the heavy fabric of Garak’s tunic revealing, as the skirt hikes higher, naked seemingly endless legs. Garak is nearly touching Julian’s hip- the tips of his fingers just brushing that point of boning at the bottom of the corset. He can feel Julian try not to squirm at the ghosting of fingers over another sensitive spot, forgetting entirely about the pretext of footwear as he shifts back on his heels. 

Garak can see Julian’s tongue lick at painted lips almost frantically panting and gasping. _Yes, blue would be better, but there is a delightfully human sensuality that red exacerbates against your skin. Say something, Julian, so help me I don’t care if Dukat and half the central command are due on your doorstep in the next five minutes… I can smell it on you, I can practically_ _taste_ _your arousal- the air is thick with it_. If Garak were to look down at the darkened shadow cast between Julian’s legs he would even see the hard cock pushing panties obscenely outward, straining against the thin fabric until the head pushes out the top to brush the satin of the skirt. Julian makes an incomplete motion toward his crotch, squirming on the bed, a near pained hiss escaping him. Instead, he clamps Garak’s left hand hard, his nails digging into the back of it pushing the skirts up further. 

Garak does see now that faint glimpse, catches another rush of Julian’s heat to his olfactory senses and lowers his head just long enough to bring himself under control. _You should be ashamed- mortified at the indignity that a man of your years and experience is acting little better than a fumbling youth with no other thought than how soon he can shove it in. You are far far better than this Elim. You are… Damn you, Julian… Damn your body, your eyes, your smell… every part of you that makes me want nothing more than to have you against all reason._ Whatever might happen in the next hour, the next few days there is a need that transcends rationality that he can feel bearing down on him. Garak quickly moves his hand catching Julian’s wrist. The other moves from Julian’s hip to a hard desperate grope of Julian’s flank, half tangled in the skirts as he squeezes and fondles that leg, hand coming to Julian’s inner thigh once more, urging those legs apart, that heel of the boot slipping back to the floor. Garak can feel his self control fading as Julian’s little whispers of “oh God” reach his ears. He is one plea- one breathless begging plea from ripping off the thin slip of fabric separating him from completion inside Julian’s hot, near feverish-

“The… the boots… p-please…” Julian twists his wrist until it is he that holds Garak at bay, the muscles of his arms taut and straining to keep both of his wrists locked in place. He looks lost. Garak’s confusion is a near perfect mirror as he practically chokes out,

“What?” _If you’re testing me, Julian… Jules, whoever the hell you are so help me if this is another one of your games… Whatever mercy I’ve shown you I am not a man you can keep toying with and stringing along because I can only take so much even from you._

“The boots…” Garak tests the hold feeling Julian pushing back against him. “That’s what you’re doing here, isn’t it?” _There is no way we’re this close in strength. I know you shouldn’t be this strong…_

“And then?” Julian doesn’t give andfury wars with desire almost violently. Garak’s mouth is tight as he studies that face above his. “I thought I was to take you to bed, Julian. Or am I somehow misreading your desire?” 

“What do you know about what I desire, Garak?” Julian lets go of Garak’s wrists looking down at his own arousal. There is a faint throbbing that Garak feels from the pressure and he feels as if these minutes here and now have allowed him the insight to piece together that brilliant broken mind with stunning clarity _. What do I know about what you desire, Julian?_ An enigmatic smile decorates Garak’s face. He chooses not to answer him verbally but as he shifts again and works pins and needles from his legs he keeps their eyes locked dragging his nails sharply down the insides of Julian’s thighs holding nothing back as the skin raises in bright pink welts. Julian’s eyes shut in pained pleasure, his head tipping back in a moment of pure wanton abandon that all too eagerly surrenders that victory to Garak. It is then that he takes Julian’s unresisting left leg once more and begins to slowly unlace the boot.

Garak waits. He takes his time to see if Julian will meet him here or if he’ll retreat into Jules or the doctor or any other number of cleverly devised disguises. _One liar to another, Julian I should have realized it far sooner_. There is a shadow that passes over Julian’s face, his mouth turned in a small playful grin. His foot slips- the soft tip of the boot carefully yet deliberately pressing between Garak’s legs with a pressure that some might consider painful. Garak does not think in the heat of the moment to affect surprise- the hiss that escapes him is as real as the blood running furiously through every vein and artery. He doesn’t need to look up to know there is satisfaction on Julian’s face at the intensity of his reaction. _It’s all you, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve been missing. Julian. Jules. All of it separate and incomplete- beautiful, scarred, dirty, degenerate doctor who at the heart still wants to save the world…If you don’t bring it all to ruin first._

Garak continues to slowly work as if he does not feel that “innocent” pressure pressing on more insistently. His hands remain steady as he carefully, painstakingly unwinds the laces from each of the grommets of Julian’s boot. The only sounds in the room that he can hear are the intermingled pants of the two of them locked in this contest of will. Garak feels that foot shift again and can almost hear the memory of Julian’s teasing voice speaking to him with breathless sadism. “ _When I was a child I used to play an old game on Earth called ‘Simon Says.” Julian, hands behind his back clasped with tight restraint, stood dead center of Garak’s personal space and gave another catlike lick to the small puncture wound on Garak’s neck._

_“It’s a very simple game, really.” He licked again. “The child in charge gives a command preceded by the phrase ’Simon Says’ and the other children mimic the action.” Julian’s tongue traced a long wet lineup his jaw until breathing hot in his ear. “The only caveat is that if one does something that Simon doesn’t say... they must be punished.”_

Garak can feel that blood even now. He can remember it- can see even through the hazy veil in his mind’s eye- the intensity with which Julian watched the knife in his hand. The laces twine around his fingers as if they possess a life of their own. Julian’s foot continues to rhythmically press and that coupled with the persistent vision of Julian’s incidental marking of his face makes him want to take that slender ankle and grind against it. He wants to take that ankle, yank Julian off the mattress, drag him down to the floor, and debase him with all the blood and pain he can stand. Garak’s hand is shaking. He nearly throws the boot across the room but with practiced restraint instead sets it down gently. There is a sock decorating Julian’s foot- white, thin, and quickly discarded. It’s soon lost in the sight of Julian’s smooth skin, ankle in his hand as he runs fingers slowly upwards. 

There is a strength that contrasting that deceptive delicacy is distinctly male. Garak finds himself unconsciously brushing the swell of Julian’s calf, feeling the hard muscle tense beneath his fingers. Julian’s toes curl, his body gives the slightest tremor causing Garak to fantasize for a flashing instant of tying him down and tickling every one of those sensitive clusters of nerves until he screams. He lowers Julian’s leg, not allowing himself any more indulgence beyond a light caress to the arch of Julian’s foot. He can see by the brief flutter shut of Julian’s eyes- by the bob of Adam’s Apple accompanying an urgent swallow- that it is enough. Garak lets his fingers trace playfully, face as neutral as he can manage, up the soft leather encasing Julian’s right leg. Again, Garak slides a finger beneath the cuff and it is then that he realizes Julian’s hands have moved to clutch at the skirts, pulling them haphazardly up and out of the way. Garak considers for a moment with a belated tailor’s outrage the indignity to the lace and the wrinkles to the satin with Julian’s rigid clutching grip until his eyes catch an entirely different motion altogether.

Julian’s hips subtly rock- push against the tightly balled fists- as he watches Garak with an intensity bordering on insanity. He can see the discreet motion of those hands pressing back down as a flush highlights Julian’s face. Those are the same eyes, he realizes with damning arousal. _The same eyes that watched him eagerly as Julian took one small self-depriving step backwards. He stood in front of the door, blocking escape as if Garak would somehow break the subliminal bonds that held him and take flight. Julian gave a violent rub of the back of his hand- to his bloodied mouth- before forcing out a deliberate, perverse, “Simon says... remove your tunic.” Garak wordlessly shifted the knife hilt to methodically unfasten the top. Julian impatiently shifted from one foot to another, wiping hands on the white of his own shirt leaving streaks of red. He toggled the dermal regenerator between his hands, eyes appearing to make a study of every part of Garak’s body that he wanted to mark. His eyes were focused on the ridges, the dip that was slowly revealed just beneath the hollow of Garak’s throat as he let the tip of the regenerator glide over the skin of his cheek once more with a heavy excited breath._

_Julian’s head tilted eagerly to the side, the loose top slipping down off that shoulder again with an unconscious coquettish turn to reveal the white lace of the bra strap. Garak’s fingers felt out every fastening with precision, eyes never leaving Julian’s own. There was nothing that escaped his peripheral vision and his body moved more slowly, more languidly, completely out of his control. He deftly handled the blade even while shrugging the heavy garment from his shoulders to let it fall to the floor behind him. The cold room seemed to grow almost warm enough for his liking beneath that scrutiny. Julian, hands clasped together looked as if he could almost break the device between his them as tightly as he held it. He continued to feverishly lick his lips before half panting out “Simon says remove your undershirt.”_

Garak takes another breath, eyes distant for that brief moment unbeknownst to Julian. He isn’t quite sure how long it takes to calm his racing heart- it seems to be infinity contained in the blink shut of his eyelids. He plays the game slowly, carefully, doing nothing but shuttering his eyes for a second when Julian once again maneuvers his foot between Garak’s legs. He presses hard- harder than the last time nearly causing him to elicit a gasp half in pain, half in pleasure. Garak shifts on his knees again, fingers twirling laces with deliberation around his fingers, tight enough to cause pain to distract him. Garak softly, caresses the back of Julian’s knee as he loosens the laces. He hears an aborted whine followed by a stiffening of the leg driving the toe of the boot further against the bulge in his pants. It should hurt. It does hurt. It almost brings him to the edge of completion. His hands snap taut hidden only by Julian’s own distracted shifting. Garak catches himself and allows the indulgence of a quick peripheral glance upwards, half obscured by the ridges around his eyes. 

Julian appears to be practically wringing the skirts between his hands. The manner in which his arms push tightly together creates an odd maidenly picture with those lips pursed together half parted. Julian’s shoulder length hair falls into his face wild and untamed with the uncontrolled undulation of his bare, tanned shoulders. It makes Garak picture that face hovering over his with Julian’s thighs locked around his waist, squeezing tighter as his body grips him.

“You should take more care with the fabric, Julian,” Garak finds himself saying as his fingers still midway down the boot, head dipping down to keep his own rapidly heating face from exposing too much. He hears the rustling lessen and die down and it seems as if Julian is trying to catch his breath- he imagines how tightly the corset must be constricting him to create that curve of waistline- of hip. Garak wants to see how Julian’s hips feel with both his hands gripping them with bruising pressure. He can hear Julian’s lack of response bleeding into a steadily increasing series of sibilant breaths making him picture the dark phantom Julian whispering in his mind.

_“Simon didn’t say so.” Julian stood in front of his now nude body, dermal regenerator still in hand as he ordered Garak to his knees. “Let’s do the arm now… the inside of your right wrist yes right there near the pronator… No no let me…” Julian traced a faint line with the tip of the dermal regenerator parallel to the vein with a feather light trail stopping just at the crook of his elbow. “Right there just like that.” Garak thought that he might like a moment alone with whoever the Simon of the distant past was as his hand obeyed the command to slide the most careful line down the vulnerable skin. “Ohhh,” Julian half moaned as he watched him. “That’s absolutely marvelous.” There was already a line of warm blood running down his neck, tickling the sensitive ridges nearly causing him to slip his grip on the hilt. “Yessss, now hold it out for me.” Garak did as he was ordered, offering the thinly trickling arm up and watching as Julian sank to his knees. He dropped the device, taking Garak’s arm with the all the care Doctor Julian Bashir had for a patient, drawing his tongue down the line, making it burn ecstatically. Garak could not hide in his position the arousal as Julian debased the both of them further not so much as shutting his eyes as Julian drew every bit of salivitic blood from him with a series of soft heady groans._

Garak did not allow a single vocalization in the memory playing in his head but he does now when his finger slips and a small unrefined edge of the final brass grommet cuts him. He blinks and looks down, Julian staring at his finger with a recollection that mirrors his own.

“Are you…” Julian trails off as he realizes how husky and thick his voice sounds. He clears his throat, not looking Garak in the face, still boring the intensity of that stare into the small bead of red pearling at the tip of Garak’s index finger. Garak lets the laces slacken, the wound bleeding a touch more freely as Julian’s foot slips back. “Are you alright?” Julian has forgotten to be sick. He has forgotten in however much time has passed to cough or feign weakness or any other emotion beyond that of desire. Garak does not know why he only now realizes that. He doesn’t dare look up at him as he slides the boot off with his uninjured hand setting it next to his mate.

“Well, I think we can rule out amputation.” Garak’s voice is far too heavy for such light teasing as he divests Julian of the other sock. He looks up with a perfectly placed smile.

“In any case-“

“Let me see it.” Julian’s ragged voice cuts him off. The voice is not the same one which ordered him to draw lines up the insides of his thighs. It is not the same one who ordered Garak to cut deeper into his own flesh while following with a lick and a hasty repair to skin. Julian has given up far too much control in this encounter to sound anything but pleading. Garak sees Julian’s eyes fixated on his finger and definitely sees the man who crawled between his legs on all fours to hungrily lap at his bloodied legs, until the top of his head unabashedly rubbed against Garak’s painful erection. Garak wordlessly holds his finger out but this time he does not remain on his knees before Julian. Instead, he stands, that hand pulled away from Julian’s greedily grasping fingers until he is forced to sit up straight as he can manage. The skirts drop back down. Julian leans bare feet braced on the carpet as he practically lunges off of the bed for it.

There is a pitiable desperation to Julian’s countenance as Garak makes him dance. There is, Garak finds, something infinitely erotic to Julian held in his thrall this way. He does not seem to realize the childish picture he makes holding his arms out with bright eyes hypnotically focused on Garak’s finger. Julian finally grips his wrist hard, drawing it back towards him triumphantly but all the same afraid to let go. There is a small huff of frustration, an almost disbelieving moment of self-realization which quickly vanishes as Julian digs a thumb into his pulse hard. _Oh yes, poor pitiful Julian, indeed. Poor poor…_ Garak lets a soft hiss escape as Julian wraps made up red lips around his finger, slowly- as slow as to be nearly still- letting only the tip penetrate at first. Garak feels Julian’s hot wet tongue caressing the wound the further inside that his finger slides. 

Julian’s eyes are closed but not tightly. He does not wear the expression of one afraid to look but instead of a man savoring every bit of the salty blood that his tongue teases out. Julian gives a long, drawn out suck pulling Garak’s finger out with an audible “ _thck”_ before drawing it back in again. Garak cannot be certain if he imagines the soft moan that he hears however he is definitely certain of the color staining Julian’s face. He takes a step forward, led by Julian’s soft mouth tugging him closer until he’s standing between wantonly spread legs. Garak feels his mouth turning dry when Julian looks up at him, eyes open now, moving his mouth just enough to lick the small tear of skin. He licks once, twice- lets his tongue flit back and forth with a series of precise little taps that make Garak’s knees nearly buckle as he sees that tongue- as Julian intends he’s certain- painting his cock with the same erotic brush.

Julian’s breath is hot. Julian’s face is flushed with what is definitely arousal not malaise. He looks up at Garak, panting as he finally releases his grip on Garak’s wrist with a long lingering swipe of his tongue up the entire underside of Garak’s finger. He smiles, an endearing silly smile; that more than anything else in this this entire surreal encounter is what makes Garak desire the most to push forward those precious few inches and throw him back on the bed to cover that body with his own. Whether the bleeding has stopped or the wet saliva obscures it enough to foster that illusion Julian looks down then up again just a moment.

“Good old frontier medicine, right?” His voice is light with just a hint of self-consciousness, a hint of searching for approval. Julian raises his head in invitation when Garak passes his left hand through thick, slightly sweat dampened hair. Garak turns his body, feeling at last Julian’s hardness pressed to his thigh. Julian’s hands are immediately on his shoulders but he doesn’t push him away. 

“Is that what we’re doing here, Julian?” He speaks the words to the shell of Julian’s ear feeling a tremor, feeling an insistent pulsing of that bulge.

“I don’t know… God I-“

“Not God. Just plain…” Garak lets his lips run around the sensitive skin right behind Julian’s ear as he presses forward. “Simple…” Julian’s hands are a mirror of his own only fisting in his slightly disheveled slicked back hair roughly. Whether he loses his balance or his forced back by Garak’s body weight, Julian falls back on the bed pulling Garak on top of him. There is no further preamble, no banter, no quips as Julian hushes against his neck ridges with ardent fervor.

“Don’t stop. If I tell you stop don’t bloody stop. Dammit I-“

Garak does not consider nor ponder his actions any further. His left hand is shifted to pin down a bare shoulder, his right going to hike Julian’s leg up as he grinds into him. Julian pushes back, head turned, throat pulsing with moans and unintelligible pleas that spur him to throw any sort of preamble or niceties out the window and instead slake that maddening lust. Garak’s fingers brush the thin string of Julian’s panties, trying to tug at the thin little bit of lace while rutting against him just the same. His teeth nip Julian’s throat, not breaking skin- not yet. He can feel himself half wanting to come just from the few blissful seconds of friction- from feeling Julian’s hot body twisting beneath his. Julian’s shoulder is tight as he strains against the hand roughly holding him down muscles moving beneath the surface. His breath is coming in half gasps that are far too shallow being bound by the corset. Garak debates moving his hand, loosening the stays, and letting Julian catch his breath but the sight of him trying so desperately to take in air, teeth biting his lower lip hard to be silent-

The door chimes. Garak experiences one of those rare moments of anger that nearly takes his breath away before calls upon decades of experience to tamp it down. He does not move but continues to hold Julian against the mattress, moving to pin the other shoulder as well. Julian stares at the bedroom door, his face shifting in an instant as if he’d completely forgotten that he was expecting someone. He doesn’t struggle but turns his head back to look up with an unreadable expression. They look at each other silently until Garak finally speaks. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were expecting company,” he says just a touch too pleasantly. “Shall I tell them how _ill_ you’re feeling?” There’s no answer- Julian turns his lips into a faint frown but remains mute. _Take it. I gave you an opening, Julian. I gave you an out that might very well ruin everything but I don’t care. I don’t care if you throw me out right after but if you have any of your wits left you’ll back away from all of this nonsense before it’s too late._

Julian’s knee remains drawn up still exerting a light pressure against Garak’s waist. The dark color lining Julian’s eyes make them appear as an endless chasm pulling Garak deep into their depths. 

“You already know that’s not true… Garak.” He finds the admission almost offensive. Garak releases his shoulders and moves back, taking Julian still bent knee, shoving it to the side as if he were slamming a door. He hides his face as he stands up and turns away.

“Nonsense. I’ll let them know that you need your rest.” Garak walks briskly, exiting Julian’s room even as Julian rolls on his side and sits up abruptly with panic.

“Wait!” Julian is on his feet and after him more quickly than Garak would have thought possible. Garak feels the fingers brushing his shoulder as he exits Julian’s room purposefully.

“Bravado is all well and good, Julian but someone with a clearly debilitating _sickness_ shouldn’t push himself beyond the limits of what he can handle.”

Julian grabs his arm yanking him around with a wild eyed look.

“Stop it. For God’s sake can’t you-”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to _betray your friends_ by letting you entertain anyone further in your condition.”

“That isn’t your decision to make!” Julian runs fingers through his hair in frustration. He looks at Garak as if he’s seriously considering shoving him in the closet for the duration of Legate Corat’s stay. The door chimes a second time.

“Your lipstick is smudged,” Garak observes mildly. “Perhaps you should go into the bathroom and freshen up for Legate Corat lest he think you less than a proper lady.” There’s a fury- half Julian half Jules- which violently springs to light. Garak makes a note of the heightened stress overriding controls he implanted as Julian circles in front of him. Julian has Jules’ calculating expression but he can see wavering beneath that exterior panic and uncertainty. It occurs to him that even in spite of this small break that he likely still has the ability to manipulate whichever Julian he wants to the forefront. Garak is almost frightened by how greatly the idea thrills him.

“If you think for one moment that I’m going to-”

“Are you going to open the door, my dear, or are we going to leave poor Corat outside with nothing but his imagination for company?” 

“He _cannot_ see you in here.” 

“Much as I sympathize with the dreadful predicament I seem to have placed you in, I cannot help but think the solution is a rather simple one.” 

“I can only imagine,” Julian replies acidly. The door chimes yet again and Julian huffs in frustration before yelling, “Come in!”

“You should tell him it’s not a good time.” Garak says from behind him as the door opens. He makes no attempt to address his own state of disarray taking in the sight of the Legate standing there expectantly. Corat is just as portly as Garak remembers during the occupation and just as fastidiously dressed. Garak watches as his face registers a faint hint of surprise before settling on neutral joviality. It seems that while Garak may recall quite a great deal about the Legate from both his file and a chance encounter before his exile, he’s sure the reciprocal hardly holds true. _Perhaps he wasn’t as close to that poor fellow Tarn as I’d thought_.

“Well, that certainly explains the wait, Doctor Bashir.” Corat ignores him entirely as he addresses Julian. Garak nearly laughs. _I cannot imagine the performance you must have given prior to this, my dear if he finds nothing unusual with this scenario._

“You em… have my deepest apologies, Legate, I ah…” Julian takes a deep breath looking at the floor quickly. Garak takes that time to frame his mindset to deal with Julian’s impending metamorphosis. “Please, call me Jules.”

“Jules it is,” Corat says as he steps inside the room. Julian’s answering smile is downright sinful. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your guest’s acquaintance.” Corat gives him a quick glance trying to place him while Julian neatly steps right between the two.

“Yes, well _Mr. Garak_ was just leaving.” The look Julian gives him could freeze molten rock and shatter it.

“Was I?” Garak asks feigning ignorance.

“Yes you were.” Julian gives him an arrogance sideways glance. “And I assure you Legate, there’s no pleasure to be found in his acquaintance.”

“Here _I_ thought our conversation was just reaching a rather… pleasurable moment.” Garak doesn’t miss the sudden switch in demeanor, the slight narrowing of eyes as Corat realizes exactly who it is Julian is associating with. Garak’s grin takes on a more playful cast. Julian for his part smiles back at him nastily and Garak is loath to admit Julian’s other self can be at times infuriatingly arousing. There also is an admittedly masochistic part of Garak who cannot help but want to watch Rome burn if he recalls his human mythos correctly. _And you haven’t completed your objective either. You’re moments away from an unceremonious dismissal and if you’d been thinking at all you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to cut it this close._ But far from panic, Gara finds only a rush the adrenaline at the challenge.

“I think you grossly overestimate your oral capabilities, Elim.” Julian lets his fingers toy with the bodice of the corset speaking his first name intimately. He looks far too pleased with himself when Garak allows an obvious shift of his attention to the sensual gesture. He walks toward the couch with a sway to his hips- a teasing reminder of their aborted encounter earlier. “The Legate and I have _business_ to attend to which hardly concerns you.” Julian casts a backwards glance to Corat who for his part seems far too amused at the scenario being concocted solely for his benefit. _Yes, it’s a satisfying bit of what humans would call “schadenfreude”, isn’t it? How funny it must be to see the great Elim Garak, reduced to little more than a plaything for the pretty catamite standing in front of you. Enjoy it while you still breathe, Corat._

“Is this the same ‘business’ you had with the Bolean freighter Captain last week? Or perhaps the same business you conducted in the back corner of Quark’s with those two lovely Klingon maidens? Your periodic business with Leeta?” Garak delights in watching Julian’s face darken, that anger barely held back. “Oh then it has to be your little excursions with Chief O’Brien. No? Well in any case I suppose I must concede the point, it doesn’t concern me any more than your usual… endeavors.”

“When business is _slow_ and _tired_ \- and prefers the sound of its own voice and _lies_ to the completion of the transaction, Elim then it should come as no surprise when its patrons decide to frequent other establishments.” Garak keeps his amusement in check when Julian stalks past him to the shelf back against the wall. “Do have a seat, Legate, I promise this won’t be but a moment longer.” His smile is honey as he picks up a bottle of kanar. “Can I get you drink?”

Corat nods with a rather unattractive smugness as he takes a seat. 

“Garak always has had a reputation for overstaying his welcome.” Julian magics two glasses out of a pile of hosiery. Garak walks over setting his hand down on the table stepping into Julian’s personal space.

“I assure you, Legate Corat, any rumors you’ve heard about me are highly exaggerated. You know how unreliable gossip is. I, for example would not have recognized you without Gul Dukat’s boot in your mouth if I were to give credence to every silly tale that I’ve heard over the years.”

“That’s the sort of humor that’s sorely missed on Cardassia,” Corat replies with a chuckle that’s not entirely in good humor. “It’s a pity you’re no longer around to make us laugh, Garak. Perhaps I can put in a good word for you when I return.” 

“Oh I’m sure you have plenty of words you can put in for me, Corat, but I assure you it won’t be necessary…” Julian quickly ducks his head and dances around Garak to set the two glasses on the half cleared coffee table. Garak enjoys the brief view as he bends over noting Corat give an admiring leer from the front He takes that brief distraction to slip his hand beneath a pile of hosiery. “No, I’m rather content with life here and my drab, dull little… business.”

“Then perhaps you should run along now, Elim,” Julian indicates the door apathetically- no longer even deigning to look at him. “I’m sure Legate Corat’s presence here is of no concern to an exiled tailorthough if you plan on remaining to fill the void in your social calendar I hope you refrain from talking overly much _._ ” Garak pauses and looks at Julian with a calm, blank expression. _Run along?_ There is a cool anger that settles over him at that particular choice of words. _Do you really think to dismiss me with a wave of your hand, Julian? Of all the nonsense… of all the insufferable, thoughtless arrogance, volatile temper, your less than better half has put me through._ _I’ve been so terribly lenient with you Julian. I’ve tamped down anger, indignity, manipulation, I’ve been, dare I say, proud to see all the things you’re capable of when I should’ve had ended you. I have made allowances for you Julian, I’ve made so many… Not anymore, my dear. No, this game is about to get far more real._ Garak inclines his head to his illusory lover and walks up to Julian thrilling at the wariness which overrides that dismissive haughty glare. He makes sure to look at Corat first.

“Yes, a tailor. A plain, simple tailor who minutes ago had you clutching at the bed sheets making such pretty little gasps.” Julian stiffens slightly at that and as Garak leans in further, he isn’t sure that Corat can hear him but he doesn’t particularly care. “A tailor who had you begging, who had you spreading your legs like a whore with your thigh tightened beautifully against my waist, who had your body drawing up and begging me with every shake, every breath to mark it, to claim it, to take it _hard_.” Julian’s eyes close Garak can see how completely rigid he is- can see the way his chest heaves, the grip of the corset creating the nearly imperceptible bulge of pectorals upwards. Garak is close enough now that not a slip of fabric could pass between them and he settles a hand on Julian’s shoulder delighting in how he makes the smallest hitch at the pressure to that sore spot. Garak is already imagining the lovely bruise that will darken human skin.

“You’re right, my dear, I’m forgetting my place, aren’t I?” Garak moves from his shoulder and strokes Julian’s hair once more raising his voice for Corat’s benefit as he lets the thick soft locks wrap around his fingers. He moves slowly- feather light over Julian’s cheek and down to the line of hair framing his jaw. His lips hover near Julian’s ear. “But see that you don’t forget yours.” Garak takes just that quick second to look at Corat watching them with a look of base desire that he knows all too well. Knowing Corat’s likely reaction nearly makes him hesitate but Garak’s own dominant instinct won’t allow for it. Garak pulls back, letting his cheek brush Julian’s. He can feel the light dusting of makeup powder on his sensitive skin as he does. He smells Julian’s clean skin, the sweetness of his shampoo, and that unmistakable Julian Bashir medical musk. Garak practically growls letting his own scent mark Julian in the possessive of ways. 

Julian doesn’t object. He doesn’t pull back nor make any of a number of overtures that any Cardassian would know which would refute such a claim. Garak knew that when he decided to initiate the silent challenge just as he knew that Corat would have little choice but to answer the ownership waved in his face. It is a challenge that he knows will be met tonight with violent abandon and as he looks at Julian’s smooth, unblemished skin there is only anger that the honor will not first go to him. _But this isn’t about you, Elim. The stakes are far greater than your desires. If Odo is to be believed and if your own suspicions are truly as dark and damned as you suspect then..._ Then he has no choice but to walk out the door and let Julian play his hand as he will.

Garak steps back seeing Corat’s drab watery eyes brighten even more furiously at the both of them. Julian is oblivious to the lot of it, looking at Garak slightly confused, those spots of color back into his face and the flickering glimpse Garak sees of Julian proper is nearly enough to make him wince. It’s gone nearly as soon as he sees it and there stands his other self with usual haughtiness.

“I never forget anything, _Elim_ ,” Julian all but purrs. Garak couldn’t have hoped for a more damning _riposte_.

“Of that, I have no doubt, my dear.” Garak turns to leave, unclenching his fist. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d even balled it. His palm throbs with the bite of small half-moon indents from his nails. Garak is not even aware of the furious blur of his vision or the pounding in his head until the bright lights of the hallway come into view. 

 

Garak doesn’t look back as he returns to his quarters. It’s time to contact Odo on the Defiant and let him know that the bug has been planted.

 

_I hope you like the blood when it’s your own, Julian. I promise you won’t be lacking for it tonight._


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit longer than expected but here we have it. Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting there are a few warnings for language, and the usual darkness and mental instability that we're come to know and love with Julian/Jules. C&C is always welcome. Look for more characters appearing in the next chapter! I had to cut it before we've earned the explicit rating and I might finish the story before the porn, we'll see. Technically the porn is separate from the rest of the story body so yeah.

_Julian hissed as the warmth from the dermal regenerator slid over the skin of his neck._ _The beard was gone, a fact which irked him far more than anything, all the blood was far easier to clean off without it. Julian’s expression was black as he avoided looking in the mirror. He looked far too like-_

_“Aren’t you just so terribly clever, Elim Garak.” The skin healed and he moved down to the first bite on his trapezius. He shook hair out of his face, still wet and unbrushed- a matted mop- as he continued to work. “I’m yours, is that the gist of it?” He winced as the next wound started closing up. “That’s your claim? That’s your mark?” He shook his head again, creating another splash of water droplets on the glass. “Yes Corat was all too happy to tell me about it when he was finished.” Julian winced, soreness seeming to come to the forefront and his body clenched with the memory in spite of the pain. “Yes all too happy to rub it in, Garak. But you knew that he would be. You knew exactly how he would react, you knew all of it. Don’t forget my place, that’s what you said to me. And ohhh did I ever lap that up, every last bit of it. But don’t worry, Elim, darling, I never forget anything. I’m sort of fucking perfect like that.”_

_Julian chuckled darkly, bordering on manic, as he worked his way down to the scratches on his chest._

_“_ _I’m_ _going to be the one with the last laugh, you miserable Cardie bastard and you? You’re going to be kneeling at my feet a dead eyed doll if that’s what it takes._ _I’m_ _the one with the codes._ _I’m_ _the one who controls you and I’m the one who-“ It was then he chose to look in the mirror and froze seeing the doctor’s face staring too familiarly back at him. Julian swallowed, nearly dropping the device as he quickly looked down and away. “I’m the one who…” His voice was whisper quiet. It pained his ears as it closed in around him. The quiet seemed to fill the room worse than the humidity of the shower and as Julian’s eyes fell down to the rest of his bruised and aching body he shut his eyes. “Get it together Julian you can’t… Jules. Get it together_ _Jules,_ _God, you bloody git you’re so close you can’t fall apart on me know. We have the codes.” He opened his eyes taking a deep breath._

_“We have the codes, we have a third of the Bajorans on the station, we have several dozen members of Starfleet and we’ll have the ships that…” Julian trailed off as he realized he was still looking stupidly at the dermal regenerator. There were still bruises, scratches on his back, still so many wounds that needed to be repaired and suddenly it seemed infinitely tedious. The wounds were clean, most of them wouldn’t scar. He set the device down on the sink and decided that he’d healed the most obvious and that was enough. Julian could hear the voice screaming at him to finish the job, to fix them, but there was that defiant part of his mind that refused. He frowned as he continued to face the mirror. “You may be a part of me, but you’re not all of me. I don’t even know why the hell I’m even doing half this rot but I’ll be damned if I let you…” He released the grip he had on the sink with a sigh. “It should’ve been Garak. It_ _would’ve_ _been Garak if I wasn’t so close if I didn’t panic if I didn’t… If you didn’t do a lot of things, you bloody fool. What the hell were you thinking letting him get so close in the first place?_

_“Esteem, Self-actualization, they’re at the top of the pyramid Jules. That nutter Salsbury ought to have shown you what happens when you don’t realize those. When you bury them in work and false success and everything else you’ve been drugging yourself with the last ten years.” Julian stood up straight as he picked up a pair of neatly folded blue panties shaking his head. “Of course it’s only natural that one needs to indulge in such undisclosed desires rather than fall into madness. I’m sick to death of hiding everything all the time. We should’ve been sick of it long before this. But that’s going to end soon enough. We’re not going to end up at the Institute because we like wearing women’s knickers. You’re not going to be put away because you’re a little more bent than the average Starfleet Officer. You’ve far surpassed the petty concerns of a career minded adolescent, you’ve ascended to fucking Godhood. Let them come. Let them all dash themselves upon the rocks and shoals and drown in your divinity, Jules, darling. Let yourself drown in it for that matter because all that matters now is finishing what we’ve started and the rest... will fall into to place.”_

_Julian dressed quickly realizing that his internal clock had been thrown completely off since Garak had left._

_“Computer, time?”_

_“Six thirty.” He nearly slumped in relief as he went hunting for the Starfleet uniform that was becoming more unbearable to don the closer the plan came to fruition. He made a quick adjustment to a strap sliding off his shoulder thinking that Garak would make something far better fitted to his-_

_“Stop thinking about him,” Julian chided himself softly as he stepped into the familiar garment. “Stop-“ Julian caught himself in the mirror again, uniform on, freezing this time, bringing his hand up not to his own face but the image on the glass. “Stop thinking about all of them, Julian. They’re not your friends. They’ve never been your friends. Not except for Miles and even he wouldn’t want anything to do with you if you hadn’t remade him in your image. The rest of them don’t know you and if they did they damn sure wouldn’t like you. They never liked you. You’re too mean. You’re too smart, you’re too… too weird, too Julian- too everything.”_

_He rapped the glass a few times watching his image wobble as he did._

_“That’s all you are Julian. You’re just an image in glass. You’re a wobbly bit of fakery and no one wants to see…” The glass seemed to continue to shake and it was only then he realized that it wasn’t the glass that was moving still but his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if they don’t like you. Who cares? You’re better than them. You were made to be better. You weren’t made to fail you weren’t made to be human- you were made to be a bloody god and gods don’t stand sobbing in the bathroom like children!” His hands twisted the fabric of the uniform tightly, pulling it away from his neck so he could breathe while he furiously scrubbed at his eyes. It was choking him. The uniform, the air, whatever it was, the more air he took in, the more his body was demanding and he both fought to stay standing while his body called to him to throw down on the floor and just scream. Except that Julian_ _was_ _on the floor. His knees were on the hard surface and he didn’t know how he even got there until the door chimed and he nearly hit his head on the sink._

_Julian swore as he got to his feet, the distraction snapping him back to a semblance of clarity. There wasn’t any time to do more than frantically rearrange his wet hair as best as he could in the bathroom mirror pulling it messily back._

_“I just…” Julian cleared his cracking voice. “I’ll be there in a minute!” He spared a glance for his reflection and licked his lips missing the waxy feel of the gloss. He almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at him and had to blink a few times before it became clear. Julian shook his head, frowning at the growing mess in his quarters when he opened the door at last to see Michael Eddington standing there with an unreadable expression._

_“Why are you-“ Eddington raised a finger to his lips for him to be silent and Julian immediately obeyed. He crooked that finger to follow him leaving Julian to grab the first pair of shoes he could find and rushed after him. He wasn’t so certain he was going to like whatever he was about to hear._

 

 

Julian watches Quark leave and fumbles the pea as Miles sits back down. It rolls onto his plate and Miles rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t need to put me on like that. I’m sure you coulda done it the first time I showed ya.” Julian frowns as he’s called on the ruse. He shakes his head.

“It’s a bit late in the day for showing off, isn’t it? That’s not considering the attention that it might draw and really I’m just…” he takes a breath. “I’m just glad that we could work all that out.” Julian scratches the nape of his neck nervously. 

“Yeah well you had me goin’ round in circles for a bit there but I thought about it y’know. I thought what with the chaos on the station and now…” he indicated the Klingon presence with far more gravity than he had when Quark was at the table. “Realized that maybe there’s something better out there that I oughta be looking for. I’m getting too old for war...” Miles trails off and Julian leans in looking concerned. “Too old for a lot of things,” he says softly.

“Look, Chief if you’re even a little bit unsure then-“

“But aren’t _you_?” Miles asks him with an intensity that almost flusters him. “I mean I know you’ve said this is more than just some mad fancy that’s come over you in the past few months but to abandon Starfleet to-” he drops his voice “what you’re planning even if no one gets hurt like you said it’s going to do more than just rattle a few cages, the Captain’s likely to-”

“I _have_ to do this, Miles. You asked me why, once. You asked me what I’m doing this for can you believe half the time I don’t even know myself?”

“S’why I said before you weren’t thinking clearly,” Miles half mutters. “I said you weren’t right in the head an’ I don’t mean that as a knock but yer askin’ a helluva lot without much to go on.”

“I know, and I can’t explain it but it’s a feeling. No, it’s more than a feeling it’s a _need_. It’s an imperative. It’s like the prophets or the gods themselves truly have taken hold of me and compelled me. I’m not hearing voices,” Julian hastily adds with a sideways look. “But I believe in this.” _I have to. It’s too late to turn back now and_ _he_ _might have started it but_ _I_ _need to finish it because I don’t even know how to stop myself if I tried._

“I need you, Chief. Surely you know that or you wouldn’t come back to help me. God knows I thought I’d screwed everything up but here you are. You have to believe in me or why else would you be here? You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had and I certainly owe you better than ‘trust me’ but that’s what I’m asking.” Julian almost forgets to breathe the more he talks and he isn’t even sure himself half the time what he believes and what he doesn’t. “It’ll be shorter than the drill we had the other day. It’ll just be a few minutes of holding ops. All we need is enough time to offline the shields and disable the systems long enough for the transporters from the ships to lock on to all the right signatures and that’s it.” Miles has his mouth pursed and Julian knows that’s far from it. _Just leave it alone, Chief. I told you the last time that Keiko and Molly won’t be in any danger. It’s just the soldier in you seeing the worst case scenario when I’ve already accounted for Odo’s response or even any possible interference from the Klingons. But even accounting for all of that none of the fighting will reach the habitat ring. I’ve run the scenario so many times I can play every possibility out in slow motion for God’s sake and if_ _you_ _can’t trust me then-_

“Alright. God knows I might end up regretting this but I’m in. But I don’t like all this” 

“I just need that much, I promise. You know why I can’t tell anyone else you know why we can’t let the Bajorans know the Captain isn’t behind this but… but they’ll see. They’ll see when we’ve built something greater than they can all imagine, when I…” 

_When I’m a fucking god. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it, Julian? Christ, you can’t be serious. You don’t think that. You don’t… They don’t need to know that. Even Miles. When he joins you he’ll see it. When he can open his mind, when the neural pathways branch out and take hold of so many more connections but right now it’s just you. It’s you against the world and even without Miles or Garak or Leeta or any of them you can do this. It’s all coming together. The hell with the Klingons whatever their business you’ll be gone soon and if it distracts from the main plan then that’s all that-_

“What about Phoenix?” The question stuns him for a moment and he squishes the other pea he’s picked up between his fingers.

“Wh-what?” He looks around quickly but as quiet as it is it’s a self-contained quiet that cares for no one else’s business. Julian can see that the patrons are too busy keeping to themselves to keep to him. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“Come off it, I know that all the money that we need didn’t just come out of thin air. I’m not stupid… specially not now right?” There’s a sort of bitter laugh that accompanies that statement. 

Julian looks down at the plate unable to meet his eyes. 

“Right I…” _Not really a whole lot you can say to that now, is there? Yeah sorry I rearranged your biology without asking. Didn’t think it’d hurt much? Thought you’d be grateful. Right. How the hell out of your damn mind were you to ever think that such an unforgivable thing would be-_

“Hey.” Julian turns and looks at Miles in time to catch the pea that he tosses him. “Think I’d be sitting here right now if I was still mad enough to knock you upside the head and down again?” Julian laughs.

“I don’t know Chief, I’ve seen some of the tricks you’ve pulled out in the holodeck I’m not likely to put anything past you.”

“Oh look who’s talking. Who’s the one that wormed his way out of that last mission? Who had half the station thinking he was sick? Tellin’ ya, Jules we sure coulda used you out there with the Changeling that snuck on board while you were sneaking around with some Cardie bigshot.” Julian nearly starts at that and opens his mouth to ask just how much Miles knows about that when he thinks he sees Eddington walk past from his peripheral vision. 

Eddington hadn’t believed for one second that Miles could be trusted. He had said that Miles’ sudden change of heart was nothing if not suspicious. He said Julian would be a fool to trust him and he nearly pulled his support right there before a million assurances. _But I could hardly expect a man like you to understand that, Mr. Eddington. You’re Mister “Let’s be friends” well I’ve never had a real friend before that I could count on, who believed in me even seeing me as my absolute worst_. _You’re the only one who’s bothered, Chief. You’re the only one who hasn’t hated me when you knew… when you knew who and what I am, what goes on in my head, even the half of it and whether it’s real or not right now you’re all I have._ He thinks unintentionally of Garak- as much as he’s tried not to do that very thing and maintain his focused somehow it all keeps coming back to _him_. Miles’ voice interrupts that turn of thought thankfully.

“Now c’mon, I know you can do it, Jules.” 

Julian doesn’t know why but there’s something about the inflection to that name that seems off. He can’t put his finger on it and already he feels an odd disconnect going off that part of his head and it harkens back to that night that he fell asleep in Garak’s quarters. _It always comes back to that, doesn’t it, Julian? He did something. He has to have done something and whatever it is it’s screwing with your head in a way that even you can’t seem to fix. He locked us out of our own mind because there’s no other reason for the construction on the promenade. There’s no reason that some of the doors of the cathedral are shut. But I can’t open them now can I, Garak? You filthy fucking lizard I’ve just about had it with your-_

Julian lifts his head and sits back in the chair telling that annoying sniveling part of himself to be silent. He feels back in control and takes a pea, flicking it into the air off his thumb, catching it in his mouth with a quick swallow. He watches the Klingons gathered around with a sneer and doesn’t see the shift in Miles’ countenance at the drastic change. Julian takes another pea, rolling it playfully between his fingers. 

“Perhaps I ought to give these genetic throwbacks something to really talk about,” he says not seeing Miles wince. He watches the lot of them setting the pea on his hand, ready to flick it at any one of them. “Bet they’d never even suspect the good Doctor, now would they, chief?” Julian turns, watching all of them, seeing who he wants to antagonize the most. “Oh the brutes won’t even see it coming and then we can really set it off. Did I ever tell you when I was a child some of the children would put together the most unlikely of insects in a terrarium and watch them fight to the death? I never lost any of those bets, either.” He chuckles. “My money’s on that particularly ugly one sitting a table over from Morn.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Julian doesn’t so much as turn to acknowledge him or answer the concern in Miles’ voice. “I mean yeah we may be supermen of a sorts but I really don’t fancy an all out brawl in the bar and Quark-“

“Quark is being paid far more than he deserves thanks to me and if you ask me the bar could use a good remodeling...” Julian locks in on his target and sits back just a bit further. “I’ll tell you one thing if there’s one lot we don’t need in our world it’s-”

“Julian.” Miles uses the other name forcefully and Julian drops the pea whirling to face him with wide eyes. His face is an instant metamorphosis to shock and confusion and without the beard he’s worn the last few months he seems much more the doctor in the flesh. He looks about to fall off the chair but darts his eyes up and down not knowing how to answer the address as he searches Miles’ face frantically for the reason that he used _that_ name.

Miles looks for a moment too brief to register like a man just caught in an awful lie. Julian blinks and it’s gone. 

“My mum used to do that,” Miles offers looking away quickly. “You know the drill? Ya hear the full name you know you’re in for it… Didn’t think it’d work quite so well, yeah?” Julian doesn’t know if he should believe him. There is every part of Eddington’s warning screaming back in his head but he wants so badly to believe that Miles isn’t one of the ones lying to him.

“Right well… I suppose I could use a little restraint. I don’t know what came over me I should probably get back to work. How much time will you need for the… for the- you know…”

“Yeah shouldn’t be more than a week or two. I’ll have to work on it on my off hours. It’ll be better that way- easier to… to practice for our next match.”

Julian follows Miles’ eyes immediately to the source of the odd change in conversation, his mouth tight when he sees who stands next to him.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a serious matter I need to discuss with Doctor Bashir.” Julian looks up, keeping his face carefully neutral.

“Much as I’d like to assist you, Constable, I need to get back to the infirmary within the next few minutes. As you might imagine with the influx of… guests on the station we’ve seen an increase in incidents and we’ve been quite busy. If this could wait until the end of my shift?...” Julian looks at him careful to keep any sign of worry or aggravation off his face. _We’re too close. We are_ far _too close to play these nonsense games with you, Odo, and if Garak seriously believes that he’s going to bury me then-_  

“I would prefer that this be resolved as quickly as possible. The new Cardassian Government might not be terribly concerned about one of the old guard not returning home but I do _not_ like the idea that a man has gone missing during my absence with no one seeing fit to so much as file a report.”

“Yes, well much as I sympathize,” Julian said unable to hide the faint traces of annoyance in his voice, “I don’t see where I can be of any help.” He sighs to cover it. “As I’ve explained to you I’ve been far too busy in the infirmary to have heard much less seen anything. Security seems to be rather ill equipped for the extra measures required as of late so why you seem to find one missing man in the midst of all this… well I don’t mean to be impolite however-” 

“Legate Corat,” Odo cuts in tersely, “has not been seen since he was witnessed leaving your quarters, _Doctor_ , and my security or ‘not impolitely’ lack thereof is not what is in question at the moment.”

Julian freezes. He remains calm even as every motion of his body stills to a halt. _Garak,_ he thinks feeling the blood start to pound going to white hot. _Is that your game, Garak? You’re not able to fight your own battles any more so you have Odo doing your dirty work? You’ve been out of the game too long  then because I’m not going to be nearly that easy. You’re not going to throw me to the wolves that neatly. I’m a God, Garak, a mortal ascended to walk the halls of greatness, you don’t think I didn’t see every possibility, every aspect of your cunning? Think again._ He filters it all in the time it takes him to blink two times. He sees Miles catch it. He can see those eyes watch him out of time just as he is himself and though it makes Miles frown to see it- it still makes him uncomfortable to see all that he’s capable of. It makes Julian rejoice with success. He faces Odo, face affecting perfect shock, eyes darting around the bar as if they were surrounded by more than just Klingons and Dabo girls.

“Garak,” he breathes out bringing a nervous hand to the side of his face. “I don’t know what you…” He swallows and stands up quickly leaning in so that only Odo can hear him. “You’re right, Constable, this absolutely cannot wait.” He whispers the words with all of the doctor’s theatrical covert enthusiasm wrapped in a neat little package. _I wanted to take you with me, Garak I wanted us to be together but you had to go and cross me._ There’s a pause, Odo looking suspicious just as he would suspect, and Julian appears thoughtful with just enough anxiousness in his voice. “Can I meet you there in five minutes? I think you’ll find it worth the wait I really need to… to get something you need to know about and it would be much better as you said to discuss it in private.” He waits to see what Odo will say. _Let me cross back, you filthy reptile. Let’s watch the snake wiggle for a while and see how docile he is when I bury him up to his neck and leave him to die in the blinding desert sun._ He doesn’t have to wait long for the curt nod. 

“Very well, Doctor, I’ll see you shortly.”

Julian smiles at his retreating back.

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” Miles asks from where he’s still seated. 

“I need to speak with Quark,” Julian answers eyes quickly scanning the bar. “But oh, Chief, I wish you could be there to see it. It’s going to be absolutely marvelous.” He sees Rom coming out from the back. _Close enough._ “The performance of a lifetime… they can stack that to the damn Carrington I didn’t win.” He stops briefly at the touch to his arm hesitating only for a moment before shaking it off. “Maybe I’ll tell you over a pint while we get everything finalized.”

“What are you going to do, Jules?” comes the hushed whisper. Julian laughs softly at Mile’s curiosity. 

“What am I going to do? I’m going to show Mr. Garak just how fragile his alliance with Odo really is.”

 

Julian watches Garak closing up his store from across the Promenade looking far too pleased with himself. _He actually bought it. Hook, line, and sinker, that damn thing cost me a near mint but…_ Julian takes a few steps, pausing to admire his reflection in the window of an adjacent shop front. _“I don’t know how to say this Odo but... Oh god I’ve gone and done something awful and I never should have helped him I never should have believed the lies but I wanted so badly to believe that he wasn’t that person anymore...”Yes I was so terribly noble in there, Garak. I was fucking masterful. “I don’t want to believe he’s a bad man Constable but I know it has to stop so I’ve been watching him.” And thank you Mr. Eddington because I couldn’t have doctored all those records so carefully even with the codes. And now all that leaves is time. Yes, there will be time, Mr. Prufrock_ _for a hundred visions and revisions except unlike Mr. Elliot’s titular protagonist I really do have all the time in the world. And you, Garak, will have time in a holding cell these next few weeks to ponder the direction your life is taking. Isn’t that what Father always said to you Julian, darling? And look where you are now old man, probably on some remote colony selling snake oil to indigents. But as for me..._

Julian turns his attention to Garak through the large doorway watching as he meticulously finishes folding the last of the tunics on the center table with his back to him. 

“Et tu Brute?” He whispers softly to himself. “You wear betrayal like the mantle of finest gold, Garak.” Julian absently fondles the chains beneath his uniform and slowly approaches. There’s a Bajoran man about to cross his path who stops and yields the way with a look of submissive deference. Julian smiles and inclines his head, holding himself just a little straighter. He scans the Promenade not seeing any signs of Major Kira or Odo. “The Emissary and the Prophets are humbled by your service,” he whispers as he passes by. _Soon. God, it will be so soon and the way they look at you Julian dwarfs anything you’ve accomplished before. Maybe I’ll even get one of those little earrings while I’m at it. That’s how it should be that’s…_ He stops and rubs at his forehead. _That’s not... correct. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not doing this for glory or infamy you’re helping people you’re_ _saving_ _people you’re not… you’re not some egotistical teenager any more you’re just-_

“Good evening, Julian, you have my apologies but I’m afraid I’ve already locked everything up so if you’re in need of a new… image, the time has already passed for that.” Julian blinks at him wondering how he could have missed his feet carrying him to the doorway, Garak closing up for the evening. He doesn’t remember the last few moments outside of his head. He looks past Garak and tries to remember how much time he’s lost. 

“I…” Julian swallows and moves to lower his hand realizing they’re both at his sides. Garak stands in front of him distant, professional, everything that he wasn’t the other night. Julian smiles at him. _Dismiss me all you want Garak, I’ve won, you lost. I’m God of the new world and you’re a serpent about to be thrown out of Eden._ He opens his mouth again. _And yet I can’t help it when I see you I still want to take you with me…_

He smiles with a hint of the doctor’s charm.

“You’re not going to invite me in for another clandestine after hours fitting? Surely there are plenty of Klingons who might use your showroom to discuss nefarious dealings.” Julian smiles as he falls back on the old banter. Garak looks at him searching. He doesn’t return the expression.

“You’ll need to find your extra-curricular activities elsewhere, _Jules_. I’ve changed the locks.” Garak’s smile is strained and he moves to walk past him. “Goodnight.” Julian reaches out and grabs his shoulder automatically surprising even himself. _What the hell are you doing?! Let him go already you silly tit! You don’t need the distraction and if you’re that hard up to get your rocks off go find Leeta and make damn sure that you’re securing your hold on the rest of the station while you’re at it._

“Does the order teach you to turn and run with your tail between your legs when the stakes get too high, Elim?” he all but purrs ignoring his own wild thoughts. Garak smiles at him tightly, looking to the hand but making no move. 

“You know, Jules, if I really _were_ a member of that rather infamous organization- and of course I’m not saying that I am- that action might be considered unwise at best.” The words are spoken with dangerous calm Garak looking at the hand like poison.

“You don’t scare me, Garak,” Julian scoffs. Nonetheless, he lets go and takes an unconscious step back.

“What a curious thing to say to a mere _tailor_ ,” Garak observes mildness blanketing ice, still watching Julian’s hand. _Oh, that struck a nerve did it? Is that why you played that nasty little trick on me, Garak? I bruised your ego and you bruised my-_

“What happened to the Legate?” Julian asks daring Garak to look him in the eyes. He draws the chains out, to steady himself, watching Garak’s face with careful scrutiny taking one step sideways, crossing the other, circling him with a sway of his hips that’s unmistakably sexual. 

Garak’s eyes follow him as long as he stays in sight- he doesn’t turn with Julian’s predatory stalking. 

“I would think that you would know far more about that than I would, Jules.” Julian stops in front of him, eyes watching the few stragglers on the Promenade making their way to Quarks as everyone else busies themselves closing up. Julian keeps his voice soft, keeps the anger from reflecting too much on his face. He watches two Bajoran security officers walking the opposite direction and gives a benevolent smile. They wave back upon seeing him and there is a slight indulgent squaring of shoulders. _Yes, that’s better, don’t let him bait you. He has nothing but his words and his little lies and you Jules, you have everything._ But even that thought can’t keep the sound of his laughter turning from cavalier to caustic.

“I bet you thought that little trick was funny, didn’t you?” 

“It’s in my nature to be amusing.”

“It’s in your nature to be a lot of things.” Julian retorts getting more heated. He takes a step away and leans against the wall separating stores hard, defiantly staring ahead past Garak’s shoulder as if he cannot be bothered to turn to look.

He doesn’t see Garak looking at him with a long measured assessment. Julian only sees the faint incline of his head from his peripheral vision.

“I suppose I must concede that point,” Garak answers face far more serious than his tone would imply. “But I must also bid you farewell for the evening. The wedding is in a few days and the more of the bridal party that flocks to the station the more I find myself forced away from your… charming company.” Garak gives a nod of his head that’s far too stiff where Julian doesn’t see it. He turns back to the direction of the habitat ring, footfalls echoing loudly in the empty Promenade. Julian stops himself from immediately following. _Stop letting him get to you. Stop letting him control this._ _You’re_ _the one in control, you’re the one a few short clicks of time to victory why are you still getting so worked up over him? Just let him leave already. Let him go, let him take the fall when Odo reviews that file and sees just as he’s supposed to that all of this was Garak all along with you just the innocent awestruck dullard caught up in a game of intrigue gone horribly awry._

“What did you do to the Legate, Garak?” The words are out again before he can call them back, fingers curling to a fist as he bangs the support beam of the wall. “Garak!” Either Garak doesn’t hear him or he chooses not to. Julian whirls furiously. _You don’t do that. You do_ _not_ _turn your back on me!_ He’s forced to run to catch up, Garak’s strides seeming to growing longer and more swift. When Julian finally stops in front of him they’re already to the turbolift. The doors open behind them both. Garak looks at him with a look of complete dismissal to Julian’s dark and dangerous countenance.

“Perhaps I’m still unfamiliar with all the nuances of human conversation but I believe that we were finished. If you needed to speak with me regarding a professional matter-“

“You’re not getting away that easily.”

“My, how terribly cliché of you,” Garak murmurs, looking past Julian to the open lift. Julian can see the red again- can feel the heat coming to his face. _You are_ _not_ _dismissing me, Garak, that isn’t how this works. That may have been how it was in the past when you were playing games with the doctor but that isn’t how it is now and I’m not him!_

“I asked you a question. Garak.”

“I believe just now you made a declarative statement.”

“What did you do to the Legate?” Julian’s teeth are clenched, his voice a low hiss.

There’s a pregnant pause as Garak look him up and down with a curiosity reserved for a particularly interesting specimen. It’s a look his father wears all too comfortably as well. Julian can hear the _thumpthump_ , his vision blurring faintly, the images of Garak’s face blurring as well. He refuses to blink. He refuses to look away. Garak smiles at him with that tilt of his head that Julian has never failed to find attractive no matter who occupies his head. He leans in and Julian feels the twitch of muscles eager to intercept, to fight as if he were backed against a corner or even to- Julian holds his ground waiting as Garak whispers to the shell of his ear in the coldest, most dangerous voice that he’s ever heard. 

“I hemmed his trousers too short.” Julian shuts his eyes for a long blink when it seems that Garak’s teeth nip the sensitive flesh. He locks every muscle down tightly lest Garak see him shiver. Julian can feel the cold aura of danger radiating off in waves. It makes the anger, the fury simmer slowly morphing to something else entirely. 

_You killed him, didn’t you? They’ve found no body- they probably never will but as I’m standing here, as I breathe, I know what you did, Garak._ He feels the warm leaving, feels Garak slide past him like liquid stepping into the turbolift’s chamber. Julian doesn’t hesitate. He steps in with him, back against the wall, crossing his arms. He licks his lips, squeezing his bicep, fingers digging into the flesh. _Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life_. He digs harder.

“And what, did the good Legate do to earn such a… fashion faux pas?” A bitter smile appears on Garak’s face in answer as he looks at the doors.

“I’m afraid Legate Corat committed the most grievous offense of any patron towards the proprietor of an honest business.”

“And that would be?” Julian dares not to breathe so as not to miss a single spoken word. He waits, hearing Garak lowering his voice, the words an odd contrast to the coldness of his tone. 

“He took something that was not his to take.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, now, isn’t it?” He whispers back feeling the corner of his mouth curling to something equally dangerous as he walks behind Garak to see if that will force him to turn.

“Cardassians do not tend to view possession as a subjective matter.” 

Garak doesn’t take the bait leaving Julian to stare at his back silently as the doors morph in Julian’s mind to the door of his quarters- as the clothes fall away and the lights dim to his darker memories. _He saw the strong cording of muscles as Garak held his hands behind his back. He watched the shoulders tense as he ran the flat of the blade close to the sensitive ridge of Garak’s spine. He turned the blade to cut carefully outwards a beautiful red river flowing from a glorious gray mountain. Julian watched as Garak bowed his head, heard the sucking in of breath through teeth and an unconscious vociferation breaking through the hush of the room. There was a part of Julian who wanted to turn the point, to stick it in him in one slow torturous drive to watch that back arch, writhe, to hear him scream and-_

And Julian feels a sudden roiling in his stomach half anticipation half nausea as he thinks back to that night and finds that the uniform is still horribly tight- perhaps even more so. He looks down and sees his hand clutching tightly, white knuckled to the collar of his uniform as if he would rip it clean off. He tries to let go but finds the hand holds tighter. Julian feels a hitch of nerves in the back of his spine. _What sort of doctor are you to be thinking that sort of thing? How can you possibly… how can someone who’s supposed to be the salvation of the universe be standing here thinking such disgusting things? You’re better than this Julian. Saint Jules. Get these damn thoughts out of your head. He’ll be gone soon. Gone gone_ _gone_ _and you need to stop this right now before this goes too far and-_ Julian swallows a hiccup. _Goes too far? Before it goes. Too. Far?!_ He blinks and continues to stare at the wavering floor and Garak’s shoes. _What the bloody hell part of this hasn’t gone too far already?!_

Julian stands up straighter from where he’s practically thrown himself back against the door feeling cold clarity clawing back from the abyss. _That’s right, you’re already too far gone. And you, Elim,_ _you have your back to me again don’t you?_ _And here I tried so hard to teach you what happens when you show me your back. But maybe you enjoyed that. Maybe in that reptilian brain of yours you enjoyed the power I held over you- your rightful place. Then perhaps there’s hope for you yet, as you’re so fond of saying to me. You’re not any different from the rest of them. They always repent after all, even if you have to dig the screws in. Even if you have to be mean. No... It’s not mean, Jules. You’re so kind to them… And you Garak I’ve given you so many chances. I’m going to…_ He licks his lips a shadow passing over his face. _You’re going to be gone soon. But you’re not going to stay gone. You’re going to repent just like a sinner, Garak. In chains, imprisoned, I’ll be your salvation, my darling Elim. The most revered holy men fasted 40 days and you… seven days is all I ask of you. Seven days ‘til salvation but I will give you the most beautiful dreams to send you off into the darkness._

Julian hears rather than sees the doors open as inwardly focused as he is. His eyes stare ahead towards Garak’s back but the mind’s eye sees nothing but the endless ocean and brilliant blue skies of the M class planet he’s decided on. Bacteria, protozoa, everything at the microscopic level waiting to be molded, to be assimilated into the greatness of his vision and here in front of him now Julian sees not an obstacle but the one thing he desires above nearly everything else. Every thought passes in his mind’s eye in the blink of the beep and the scant inclination of Garak’s head towards him as he bids goodnight. _For you the final time, I’m sure but that’s that’s not what I want. Now the question is, can we move fast enough to catch him?_ _Are you faster than time itself, Jules? Of course you are._ He takes silent quick steps out feet hitting the ground softer than Cardassian ears fast enough not to trip the safety and stay the door. It closes exactly when it should and there’s a hint of Doctor Bashir boyish grin at that triumph.

Julian’s pulse starts to race faster as he stalks his prey, that grin transforming with every passing memory. _Has it been nearly fifteen years to the day? Fifteen years when you learned just how much power you truly held, how much greater than the rest you really are. When you lay your hand to the side of that girl’s face… Anna, that was her name. …and watched her look at you begging you to make her brother well- was there ever a more beautiful sight? No, never. And oh was it ever easy to press a little kiss to her cheek. To give her the antibiotic to the bacteria you cultured yourself. That was bloody brilliant. A kiss, an embrace… and every time, every one of them swore they’d do anything you ever asked of them. All reinforced with every bit of that tactile desperation these poor fools crave…_ Julian closes his eyes with a deeply drawn breath. _Surely you know I’m here, Garak. You have to know, you have to feel that little pinprick to your spine. You have to feel my eyes you have to give a damn that I’m_ _here_ _!_

_Turn around._ Julian opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling of all things. _You’ve already lost him, Jules, haven’t you figured that out yet? You’ve already sacrificed him. He’s gone. He’s better without you and as much as you’ve screwed things up it’s for the best that you end it right here. You don’t need to…_ Julian looks, seeing Garak growing further away. He shakes his head, biting his tongue hard as if such an action could be used to punish himself for those thoughts. _The hell you say. I want him. I_ _want_ _him, Julian and I’m not letting you keep him away from me. You’ve kept him at arm’s length for three fucking years and I’m going to…_ He takes a hard step, the echo painful in the long hallway as he forces the motion as he hasn’t had to in months. He can feel himself being held back, can feel phantom fingers encircling every limb to bind him. _You want him too! Don’t tell me you don’t want this, damn you I know everything in our heads, everything between us and I will be_ _damned_ _if we’re denied this any longer, Julian._

He watches Garak stop at the sound of his noisy awkward steps. Garak doesn’t turn around and Julian can feel the violent jerking of his head back and force as if battling some incorporeal phantasm. _Jules! Call me Jules Garak. I need to stay here, it has to be me and if you just say my name... Sayt it sayt I don’t want to-_

“You would be wise to keep your distance, Julian,” Garak says and it freezes him completely. He blinks rapidly, eyes moving, pupils shaking as if in a REM state. He brings a hand to his head holding it, feeling things slow back down as he breathes, feeling the tendrils of darkness threatening to strangle him.

“I don’t want…” Julian practically throws himself back against the wall bent over clutching his knees as the room spins with a grimace. “You have to call me-“

“Your choice of name is of course, yours to make however as for what I call you. _That_ is a decision that you can’t take away from me, now is it? Did you want something else, Julian?” Garak still isn’t looking at him.

Julian shuts his eyes tightly almost knocking his head against the wall as he tries to hold onto the beautiful darkness that seems to be sloughing off like dead dry scales. He opens his eyes, the light far too bright, wavering, dizzying like it was that night. He once again stares hard at Garak’s back seeing the bare skin recreated from his perfect memory, his eyes misting over as the movie plays slow motion in his mind. _Julian had knelt behind Garak the knife still tracing a careful mosaic outward from the protruding ridge of his spine. He watched the center weep, the fingers of his left hand curling painfully into the floor around the grip of the dermal regenerator. His eyes were hyper focused as the blood welled angrily beneath the surface of every coiling scroll, bleeding down from thin straight lines that he allowed to cut in deeper. He catalogued every sound from Garak, every involuntary hitch, every increase in respiration until the mosaic became an instrument that let him draw out a different note with each careful stroke. He could hear Garak gasping and Julian could swear he was breathing out his name as the waterfall of iron rich blood poured down with a soft whisper of-_

“Julian?” He refocuses his eyes realizing that Garak has in fact turned back around. And yet in his mind’s eye he still sees the blood welling only now it’s from the hollow of Garak’s throat, a map of man-made, of _Julian_ -made rivers. He look almost afraid to look Garak in the eyes but when he does it almost seems as if Garak is somehow seeing the same vivid recollection. _But that’s impossible. He doesn’t remember any of that and even if he did there’s no way he would know it was really you, Julian. He remembers Jules. Jules is who they all remember. Jules is who they all want, not you. But that can’t be because there is no he or we anymore it’s only us or me or-_

“You don’t want me, Garak,” he finds himself saying not daring to move from the wall, looking off to the side. “You want-“

“What do you know about what I desire, Julian?” Garak says almost angrily as he throws Julian’s own words back at him..

“ _Touché,_ ” Julian says quietly focusing finally at some spot on Garak’s tunic. _I can’t leave it here._

“Then... maybe…” He swallows hard feeling sweat gathering on his palms as his hands slide behind his back to rest against the wall. _What are you doing, Julian? You cannot be this crazy. You don’t want him like this you have…_ “Maybe we should discuss that matter further…” _You have far too much to lose to allow yourself to be this…_ “…in your quarters.” Julian subtly holds his breath, not with a flamboyant intake of air but slowly allows his breathing to shallow until it halts entirely. He enjoys the slow welling of euphoria, the tightness that grows in his chest, the blurring of lines around every shape in his vision. He can feel his hands squirm behind him, every instinct of his other self fighting for control until with an unconscious motion he draws forth his right hand letting the pads of his fingers sensually brush the side of his own face.

He watches Garak, watches those eyes shift from angry to impassive to curious when he lets his head tilt to the side a fraction at that metamorphosis. Julian lets out the breath slowly, as if every draw of air into his lungs is the most thrilling sensation he’s ever felt and as he feels that calm- that self assured sense of himself settle back he sees Garak smile at him with an amusement that seems almost equally inwardly directed as out.

“That which we call a rose…” Garak says as he holds his right hand up. Julian brings up his left, in an unconscious mirror letting their fingers touch, letting his palm press to Garak’s larger one. All it takes is that one touch to drain every bit of Jules to a homogenized mixture back into the flask.

“I… I beg your pardon?” _Don’t say it like that. Stop talking like him stop… Talking like who? I don’t understand? Who am I talking like? I’m not doing… We’re not… I don’t…_

“Surely you recall that line, my dear,” Garak says with far too much flippancy. He lowers his hand still keeping that vivisection ocular study. “But would you really? Yes, that is the question which outweighs even the existential matter of being now isn’t it...”

“Would I?...” Julian shifts his posture, moving his hip out with just a small coquettish turn. He allows his throat be exposed, revealing an invitation of tanned skin with that primal gesture of submission. 

“Would you taste as sweet?” Garak leans in but stops short of real contact. The heat from his body radiates out like a second set of hands that makes Julian’s breathing growing heavier and stir the fire back to the painful forefront. 

“The word is ‘smell’, Garak.” Even that pedantic correction is interlaced with heat. He watches as Garak’s tongue flicks close to his face, close to his ear feeling scorching breath that makes his knees nearly lock together.

“They’re very similar in Cardassian,” Garak says with another teasing reptilian flicker to illustrate the point.

“I can imagine.”

“I’m sure you can imagine a lot of things, Julian. But can you imagine that perhaps you should fear me far more than you fear yourself?” 

“Because of your past? Because you’re a spy? Because you’re a former member of the Obsidian Order?” Julian- he who is Doctor Bashir- doesn’t play with the same subtle sensual rulebook; he challenges him directly.

Garak laughs softly, breath tickling Julian’s neck. _Oh... that is so... very..._

“Because, my dear, I only give even the most priceless of fabrics so many chances to come together properly before I rip them apart at the seams.” Julian feels the scratch of a nail down his neck sharply pulling him away from plebeian romantic dreams- from the doctor’s guileless engagement. He moves away instinctively, long legs allowing him to easily dance out of reach were Garak to reach out. He doesn’t. _Aren’t you going to catch me?_ Julian stands between Garak and the remainder of the long hallway waiting. _I’m right here._ His heartbeat picks up again as he takes a step back, watching Garak’s eyes, his hands, just daring him to come closer. He is aware of every pulse of blood in his body in the moment and even with his eyes open he dreams of the blood. He dreams of pain and pleasure and every last bit of the endgame’s victory. It still eludes him. _Garak_ still defies him. _Fine. I’m finished waiting.  I’m bloody well sick and tired of waiting. Waiting for the defectors, waiting for Odo, waiting for the right time when I can stop hiding. Waiting, waiting, waiting! I’m done with it. I want you_ _now_ _._

“Then you should know this fabric is not one to be so easily tattered.” Julian tucks hair behind his ear. “Unless you’re afraid you lack the skill to work it properly.” His eyes flicker up and down over Garak’s body quickly as he steps back again with slow encouragement, once, twice. 

“Do you expect me to chase you if you run, Julian?” _I would expect you to chase, to covet, to hunt down to posses. I would expect all those things just as I know you would expect that I make it hurt. I like it when it hurts Garak._ Julian smiles at him hand toying with the long chains.

“What makes you think that I’m going to run?”

“That’s what prey does, my dear,” Garak answers walking toward him at last. Julian remains where he stands as Garak comes closer, unable to conceal the furious full body stiffening when Garak steps around him neatly. _But if I must play the game with you for just this once.._. Julian pursues, falling into a measured step on Garak’s right. He lets his hands drop behind his back, fingers playing a slow spider walk over each other as he speaks.

“When I was a child,” Julian offers, “One of my favorite stories was Rikki Tikki Tavi. It’s a rather boyish fantasy story found in Kipling’s “The Jungle Book” about a mongoose in India. The whole work is much beloved where my family is from actually.” Julian lets his eyes wander to the doors they pass as he mentally counts the steps from memory to Garak’s quarters.

“A… mongoose, you say?” Garak replies with polite inquiry, the universal translator seeming to leave the word untouched. Julian detects the distinct sibilant accent from Garak’s true voice. He laughs softly. 

“I don’t expect you have them on Cardassia. A lot of people mistake them for rodents but actually

they’re more closely related to cats. And really there’s a certain irony to that misconception. Although they might appear at first to be rodents, while they might appear to be members of a snake’s favorite prey, they are in fact members of the family _Herpestridae._ Care to venture a guess as to what that means?” There’s a slight anticipatory bounce in his step when he asks.

“I’m sure you’re just dying to tell me, my dear and I would hate to take that away from you.”

Julian looks straight ahead, hands clasping tighter, eagerly, as he sees the door mentally counting off those last precious steps. 

“They kill snakes,” Julian replies simply as the two of them stop in front of it. He watches out of the corner of his eye for a reaction as he continues. “They are immune to the venom you see by a curious evolutionary quirk. The deadly neurotoxin which usually renders its victims helpless… has no effect on them whatsoever.” Garak chuckles softly and turns to Julian brushing the hair back from his face somehow before Julian even realizes that he’d moved.

“A curious species indeed.” Julian leans his face against Garak’s hand letting his cheek mark the palm. “We most certainly don’t have such… fascinating creatures on Cardassia.” Julian puts his hand over Garak’s as the door opens, nails digging in just the slightest bit. 

“Am I coming inside?” Julian asks looking at him with heavy measure- with every ounce of desire he can muster. He sees a shadow pass over Garak’s face, the ridges seeming to darken in the dim light of the night’s hallway. He slips out of Julian grasp and gives him a deceptively pleasant smile before entering.

“That remains to be seen.”


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping I'd make it before a whole year passed and wow it went by so quickly! But in spite of a million distractions this is absolutely not abandoned and I do have the end in mind a few chapters down. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me, this really has been one of my favorite things to write.
> 
> As for this chapter you can see we're getting much closer to the height of what's going on and I guarantee I think the end might blow some people away. Really this chapter might be somewhat shocking so for the warnings. Language and sex definitely. Now those who've read this far know that Julian/Jules has been rather busy with the ladies and my apologies the sexual content in this chapter isn't Garak/Bashir. Though to be technical you could see it as more Jules rather than Julian (that will make sense, trust me.) There's a bit more Garak/Bashir flashback bloodplay as well in case that's not your cup of tea.
> 
> A lot more is revealed and a lot more questions but look for an Interlude chapter with possibly more answers. C&C is definitely welcome! This also might be the longest chapter to date.

_“Gotta say, Jules, yer playing with fire, there.” Miles took a long drink as he glanced over to the table where the newly arrived Starfleet officers sat conversing. Between two junior engineers, Dr. Elizabeth Lense sat sneaking periodic glances toward both him and Julian. Julian merely snorted as he broke another meticulous piece of his scone off bringing it to his mouth._

_“_ _You’re_ _the one on your second cup of Raktajino,” he teased before eating. Julian spared a small wave but turned his attention back to Miles quickly enough. “But I don’t see why you would still need that as a crutch. If anything your body’s probably metabolizing the caffeine too quickly to be effective.” He glanced back down missing the slight frown as Miles pushed the drink off to the side. “You only_ _think_ _that you need it.”_

_“Yeah… force of habit I suppose.”_

_Miles looked quickly between Julian and the Dr. Lense before taking a small round object from his pocket; a dataport which he looked at for a long time. Julian opened his mouth but Miles spoke first._

_“Think you might invite her over then?” He placed it back. Julian’s eyes never left it. His attention had become far more sharply focused since that night he disappeared from Quark’s in a rush. “You kept the doctor all to yourself last time she was here.”_

_“Jealous, Chief?” Julian took a drink of tea looking up from dark rimmed eyes. “Ah, but she isn’t the one I’m waiting for.” He sat up straighter, looking quickly through the replimat. His index finger tapped the table as he searched looking perfectly cocksure._

_“Keeping an eye out for Leeta, are ya?” Julian snorted, turning back, looking over Miles’ shoulder before turning back to the scone._

_“Hardly.” He took another careful bite. “We’ve made no promises whatever she might think. But enough about me, what about you? You can only how frightfully busy I’ve been.” He smirked as his eyes went to that table again. “Well no need to go into all that. I mean the metabolization, of course.”_

_Miles sat back, picking up the cup with a contemplative expression on his face._

_“Yeah fine. Taking a bit of getting used to.” He looked about to take a drink but instead set the cup down and once more pushed it away. “It’s different like you said. I mean work and all. It’s easy. Sometimes it’s almost too easy.” Miles absently felt his pocket. “You know, you never think you’re gonna miss the challenge, all the little things that go wrong, all the puzzles, and those things that used to give you such a headache but… what else is there, right?” Julian hardly seemed to be paying him any attention as he vacillated that focus between the pastry and the door._

_“I’ve heard it said that ignorance is bliss, Chief,” He tossed out offhandedly. “But I’ve never …” he licked at the crumbs on the tip of his thumb. “…no I suppose I did believe once that ignorance is a kindness of a sort but you believe all sorts of nonsense when you’re young and ignorance is all you have. Does that mean it’s finished?”_

_Julian looked at him eagerly, eyes darting from pocket to his face. Miles hesitated for a moment but shook his head._

_“I can’t... I’m sorry, Juli... Jules.” Miles noticed how Julian nearly jumped at the near slip of his name in a way that seemed too frightened even for him._

_“No, you_ _can_ _,” Julian corrected him firmly, “It’s that you_ _won’t_ _.” He went back to watching the door, and Miles looked at him confusion flitting across his face quickly turning to a dawning realization. “You’ve got something else up your sleeve, dontcha? Well look, yer not getting it back, I told you we don’t need it and-“_

_“And I already accounted for the eighty seven percent chance that you wouldn’t go through with it so you’re perfectly free to go.”_

_“Did you hear me, I just said I’m not-“_

_“Keep it,” Julian cut him off with a wave, the smirk on his face causing a frown to grow in direct proportion on Miles’ face. “Really, Chief,” He laughed softly. “You can keep the damn thing as a souvenir for all I care, bronze it, burn it, make it into a little necklace for Molly.” Julian’s face lit up as he watched, and Mile’s saw Jadzia Dax enter the replimat fresh faced, smiling, holding up a finger for the two of them to wait a moment as she ordered herself a drink. Julian didn’t see the ashen look on Miles’ face, his own attention focused solely on Jadzia. He laughed softly._

_“You haven’t been this quiet since I beat you last in racquetball, Chief,” Julian murmured under his breath flush with excitement. Miles put his attention towards the table breathing in and out slowly, eyes flickering back and forth in fast contemplation that itself seemed so fast it made him uncomfortable. He looked conflicted as she took a seat before taking a long drink of the cooling Raktajino._

_Julian looked at her with a brilliant smile, dazzling, almost giddy as she sat down._

_“Gentlemen... you know I’m just burning with curiosity about this... top secret meeting you asked me to.” Miles stopped a quick snap of his head to Julian, setting the drink back down slowly. Julian only glanced at him a moment._

_“I knew you would be, darling. I thought of all the officers on this station who might help us with a little difficulty we’ve been having, you off all people are the most brilliant, qualified, and dare I say completely ravishing.” He leaned in and took her hand with exaggerated flare eyes bright. Jadzia simply looked back at him, taking notice of the silver earring and chain as he graced her with a playful tip of his head._

_“Well, whatever it is, I think this is the happiest I’ve seen you in a while.”_

_“Is that the effect a certain Bajoran is having on you?” Her look was downright mischievous as she too seemed to take notice of Dr. Lense just finishing her meal with a quick meaningful glance at Julian. “Or maybe something a little more than that, Julian?” The response to that name was immediate and raw. Julian let go of her hand and sat back with a slightly awkward twitch of his shoulders, expression flashing inward for a moment. He sat blinking, looking at her glass as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was._

_“Is it..?” he trailed off with a nervous cross of his arms, a squeeze of his elbow. He looked around quickly, taking in the scene, looking to Miles who seemed as confused as he. Jadzia was immediately contrite._

_“Of course,_ _Jules_ _,” she emphasized. “You’d think of all people I’d know better.” He relaxed, back, blinking again like a rapid LED processing, as if he weren’t entirely sure what had happened. Whatever it was his expression was dark._

 _“Yes well I’d imagine it must be galling, it must be offensive, it must be so completely_ _aggravating_ _when people forget to address you properly.” His face was tense but he brought it under control as soon as he looked at her. Julian leaned in, hands folded on the table shifting a leg underneath himself. “Sorry. So sorry, you did say I was doing so much better didn’t you? And I am. Oh you... you can only imagine, how much better. You know, I can only begin to imagine what that must be like to be joined with the symbiont. All those memories, all those thoughts… those… unwanted intrusions swirling around your head at the most inopportune of times…” Julian laughed abruptly, softly to himself with a shake of his head. “But then one day it’s gone and you know don’t even realize how much you’d grown accustomed to it.”  He stopped at her sober expression. “But of course you do. Verad. That’s low of me. You have my apologies.”_

_“It’s alright, It’s already forgotten. Even that memory is part of me, of who I am. I wouldn’t take any of it back. And, I also wanted to let you know that Jake was a wonderful host for Torias so you can stop apologizing every time you see me. You have no idea how glad I am to see you recovering, Jules. We all are.” She smiled at him. He smiled back brilliantly. Miles appeared faintly nauseous before joining in looking about to take his leave._

_“Yes, you all do worry about me so terribly don’t you…” His tone was slightly dark, passing quickly like a sudden storm, the eye bright and calm as Julian shook his head. “But of course that’s not why I asked you to join us, darling.” Miles stopped his ascent looking at Julian not quite able to hide the unease._

_“Really, it can wait. Can’t it wait, Jules?”_

_“Wait? No… one might say I’ve had a lifetime of waiting.” He laughed softly his fingers stealing to the silver chains they’d all been used to seeing. Those fingers stopped, the jewelry no longer there, only Miles seeming to notice. “Care to venture a guess?” He had his hand up, knuckles pressed to his lips instead childishly as she shook her head._

_“I don’t have any idea. Tell me.”_

_“We need you to settle a bet, darling. A little wager. A little gentleman’s discussion.” He looked over just daring Miles to contradict him._

_“Matter of fact we don’t.” Julian shrugged it off with a toss of his head and a wave._

_“There’s no need to be sore, Chief, you haven’t lost… yet.” There some something else that drew Miles’ attention to an inward riddle just then that Julian took no notice of. It held him silent._

_Jadzia watched his face eagerly, leaning in as if the three of them were co conspirators and it was with an exaggerated look around that Julian’s eyes swept the room before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small cylinder, setting it down in front of her._

_“Julian!” she gasped unaware that she’d once again addressed him incorrectly in her excitement. “Where did you get that?!” He sat up straight, looking almost terrified at the sudden exclamation._

_“Yeah, ‘Julian’,” Miles cut in, a sing song mocking repeat as Julian’s eyes swam with panic. “Tell us where you got it.” He crossed his arms and watched Julian flounder, clear his throat and practically grab his tea up in front of him with a gulp, splashing it over the side._

_Julian made a face at the bitterness._

_“From the bloody Scorpio killer I’d say,” Miles answered his own question as Julian shook his head quickly._

_“No, Scorpio killed Orion. Not the…” he cleared his throat as Jadzia turn to him with suspicion. “It’s a joke in poor taste, I’m afraid.” He shook his head. “No I… it’s something we were working on and it was er… like a puzzle you see.” He waved his hands like he was working an invisible rubik’s cube. “I… I wanted._ _We_ _wanted to see if it was possible… no… sorry, let me back up I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start over.” He clasped his hands in front on the table making a long study of them. He looked as if he didn’t know what to say all of a sudden._

_“I suppose…” he looked up with a frown. “I suppose the nature of the disagreement stems from Khan. You know… that Khan.” He gave a waggle of his fingers like some magic. Jadzia shook her head looking faintly amused._

_“You’ve totally lost me, Julian.” The name slip didn’t register at all this time and Julian looked far more like the doctor as he pushed the hair out of his face and looked to Miles._

_“Isn’t that it though, Chief? I... I said if Khan Noonien Singh… if he were to have this device here… if one were to engineer a dataport to take into account the genetic engineering, the advanced neural pathways… I said that one could make a device that far exceeds what any normal dataport is capable of.” Julian finished with a somewhat incredulous half laugh. “I really… I really don’t see where the conflict is now. After all our… our discussion.”_

_“And I said to you, Julian,” Miles said again and this time Julian didn’t react at all to the use of the name. “That Khan Noonien Singh the mad man, the monster who ruled over us “lesser men” like cattle wouldn’t see the need for such a thing in the first place. If he’s already superior. I said if he’s so damn brilliant being the next stage of human evolution then he doesn’t need to do more than he’s already done now does he?” Julian sat back his face falling, quiet, staring hard again at the table before looking up at Miles face pleading._

_“And I said… I said you don’t_ _understand_ _. I said that if you were Khan. If you were there on a dying planet if you were all alone in the universe watching your friends die, watching everyone you loved die because of a bunch of parasites... a bunch of body stealing invaders… If you’d reached that level of despair, if you knew no other way out, if that fear gripped around your heart and threatened to strangle you. If you…”_

 _He put his hand to his heart, to some imaginary injury, eyes distant as if he were remembering something he tried to forget. “If you knew what it was like to feel that helpless… to know that what you know and what your abilities are now… that they mean_ _nothing_ _, Miles…”_

_“It didn’t have to be that way for him as you well know and it doesn’t...” Miles looked at Jadzia momentarily flustered. “I think maybe we need a minute here.”_

_“Of course if you need it, but if I can help then-“_

_“No! Please. Stay. Just... just hear me out, please. Even if you don’t agree just... just let me finish.” Julian took a deep breath. “I’ve had enough minutes, Chief.” He ran fingers through his hair anxiously looking as if he might tear strands out by the roots._

_“I’ve had enough time locked away in the dark... Time... it’s time you know. The most precious commodity there is. I think an eternity went by... maybe it was only seconds. Well, they say there are tricks to stretch minutes into eons if you can stomach the boredom but... but that’s not what this is about.” Julian picked the dataport back up looking at it closely. “_ _I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. I read that when I was a child. Thought for some time I might be a chemist but... you know that story.” He turned it over in it’s hand cradling it gently. “But what if everyone could be saved? That’s why the augments... why Khan was created... to save everyone.”_

_“Julian, the man was a monster who-”_

_“You know, Leonard didn’t believe in monsters.” Julian turned to look at Jadzia who was regarding him with sympathy. “He once wrote to me the only true monsters exist in the nightmares of our imaginations.”_

_“You can always tell a man who’s never encountered the Borg,” Miles murmured._

_“What?” Julian looked at her._

_“Leonard McCoy I mean.” She grinned at Miles. “And I don’t think you’d be saying that if you ever met him. We exchanged letters for a long time after we met. When I was Emony, that is. I didn’t really believe him when he said he’d write me.” She laughed. “We didn’t know each other well at all back then but I learned when Leonard said he was going to do something... I didn’t think I’d have much interest in his work but when he began describing all these , other people they were meeting Lela was just so fascinated by their governments, their customs, anything she could squeeze out of him. And music too. I couldn’t play a note on anything but I loved the compositions he’d send me.” Jadzia’s eyes took on a distant dreamer’s stare. “When he wrote about Khan it was near... Christmas. He sent along Bach’s Canata... BMV 147.”_

_Miles’ brow knit trying to place the Earth song._

_“Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” Julian filled in watching her almost hypnotized. “That is only the last bit, the rest of the song is well...”_

_“Leonard called it a religious experience. That and Amazing Grace. But you know I think I preferred when he sent me Lalo Schifrin.” She shook her head. “But what I was saying is that Khan... He wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t even a god as some people might say. He was just a man. A very sad man in the end.”_

_“Yer giving him way too much credit there, Jadzia.” Miles sighed, seeing she was already on to the next thing that caught her attention which was right back to the dataport. She picked it up, examining it closely, a sparkle starting in her eyes._

_“But this, this is incredible! Where’s the coupler for it?”_

_“It ah... doesn’t have one. The gentleman that sold it to me said it was the latest technology. Or well it was designed specifically for the...” he stopped himself just barely, looking back to Miles for direction._

_“You might as well say it, Julian. Starfleet sent a transmission on it just the other day. Phoenix. It was designed to work with Phoenix users who’re eh... trying to remember what they call them ya know cycling on the drug. Pretty sure it’ll wreck yer brain otherwise.”_

_“It’s not a drug,” Julian protested immediately, pedantically. Miles looked at him ignoring that for the moment. “It’s a mitochondrial virus that removes the natural biological inhibitors on our cells, on our mitochondria, apes the accelerated neural pathway formation treatments but since it removes all the safeguards that-”_

_“Julian.”_

_“Hmm?” Julian was still making a new study of the dataport turning it over. “Now see, here’s where-”_

_“Julian?”_

_“That_ _is_ _my name, Chief,” Julian looked at him finally with a huff. “Are you feeling alright? You look like you’ve just-”_

_“Don’t move!” Miles stood up abuptly. “Stay right there. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t bother shoving the chair in as he whirled, practically running out of the replimat._

_Jadzia looked after him with surprise but recovered quickly._

_“Well, I don’t know what’s gotten into him all of a sudden but I’m confused. Is it Julian, or Jules?”Julian stopped, eyes focused on the doorway of the replimat, a shadow passing over his face as she spoke the second name. He looked down whispering softly to himself with an almost incredulous laugh._

_“So that’s what the bastard did,” he breathed out slowly, that smile remaining on his face. “Oh yes... yes it_ _is_ _Jules, luv, terribly sorry, the Chief and I were just playing a little game...” He licked his lips another soft titter. “Yes just another move in our little game.” He took another piece of scone getting one last taste before looking at her positively wickedly. “And speaking of games, you and the Chief have already helped me far more than you could ever imagine. But now... what say you and I play a little game of hide and seek now and I’ll tell you all about it. I promise you, it’ll be absolutely thrilling.”_

_She hesitated just a moment as she looked back to the door but something in Julian’s expression made her dismiss it._

_“Alright. Count me in.”_

 

He looks out, a long moment at a Bajoran passing by the infirmary on the Promenade. He, Jules. It’s been nearly two weeks now and it’s just been him. Only Jules. 

“Do you trust me, Liz?” He processes the intervals between each successive passerby and with a slow breath shuts his eyes accesses the file of visitors to the station along with the residents using the codes Eddington had given him. He perused it once after first implanting the dataport but checks it again to be sure. He calculates their schedules and determines at last that barring any emergencies they have time. He blinks a few times feeling the rush of information passing through his synapses at once before he removes the small module from the computer. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be a Bynar. He thinks he feels a faint humming passing through his brain like wires constantly thrumming with information. The surge passes down to his toes and he feels nearly giddy with excitement as he looks at Dr. Lense staring back at him almost wondrously. She looks at the screen in front of thee two of them quickly almost embarrassed to be caught staring.

“Really, Jules, you let me implant a device that by all accounts should have fried your cerebral cortex a thousand times over and you’re worried about _me_ trusting _you_?” She shakes her head giving him a playful smirk. “Maybe the operation cracked a few things loose after all.” Yes, the operation to finally implant the device that he and Jadzia had poured over practically non stop that entire time until it was finished and the piece that now decorates her mantle is nothing but a blank he reserved and the true masterwork sits nestles behind his ear.

“Oh nothing that wasn’t a turn of the screw wobbly as it is.” He points to the sequence on the display straightening proudly. “But there you have it, darling. There is the recreated bio machine pretty as a picture just waiting to dance with all your lovely little cells. I was afraid that I’d need to make too liberal use of the replicator but it seems my own cells’ productive capabilities have been far greater than I imagined. The starter amount is less thanks the blood I had to divert for the Phoenix catalyst- for Saint Julian- but then again without Phoenix none of this would’ve been possible.” He looks at her taking both her hands in earnest. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you, Liz. I wanted you to be the first to join me. As soon as I saw you again I wanted it to be you but… but Leeta was in such desperate need… I hate it you know... sometimes...”

Jules trails off with an overly dramatic sigh, head bowed.

“I didn’t ask for it, I mean. Everything that’s happened to me. The attack, these visions...” He swallows a small feeling of giddiness no longer feeling that guilty tug, no longer feeling bound, constrained by any part of his other self. _Oh you thought you were clever, didn’t you, Garak? Whatever you did to me that night… whatever you did to me after you fucked me… I still can’t remember all the details but I know what you did now. You broke us apart. You set him free as your pithy Order tricks could manage since you’re not_ _good_ _enough to stuff me back into the darkness. But I know the trigger now. I know the name and he may be back, stronger than before when they call him forth but it’s like bloody Rumpelstiltskin, darling as long as no one speaks it..._ Jules looks at her to be sure he can gauge her subtle eye motions. “I realize now though... I’ve accepted that it can only be me. No matter what happens,” he whispers and carefully holds the exact same physiological parameters, the same cadence for the lie. “In a perfect world it would only be you and me but...” He lets it hang feeling her squeeze his hands in reassurance. 

“I know, Jules.”

“I feel like I’ve robbed you of something, you know.” he insists playing the part perfectly.” Of your life in Starfleet, of your career, of a real family... you know I don’t begrudge you another if that’s what you need.”

She lets go of his hands with a fervent shake of her head.

“ _Robbed_ me? Are you kidding me, Jules I didn’t realize until I met you just how badly I was dying there. I thought that the Lexington would be everything I dreamed but I was an idiot. But I didn’t even know what to do, what I _could_ do. But seeing you here like this, seeing your work, seeing where all the life in the universe is coming together. Just seeing your transformation, seeing these biomachines that were a prison to the Ennis and the Nol Ennis become our salvation with the modifications you’ve made. I almost can’t even believe it. We’re going to change history, Jules, we’re going to change _everything_. First, second, who cares about all that when we’re doing _this_ and doing it _now_. You’re the origin Jules, of course it has to come from you anyone with any sense could see that. It’s your DNA, your genome that all this comes from whether it comes from my body or not it’s still going to be life from you, from me born into the world.” She sighs and looks at him as if it were _he_ that needed convincing. He stands almost stunned by how perfectly it’s all falling together and that only makes her the more insistent. “I was married once before, Jules. I can’t say that I miss it.”

“You, are a true humanitarian.” He gives her his most winning smile, proud and benevolent, more proud of himself, but just so pleased that she came to him so willingly. Jules looks out again and catches sight of two inebriated Klingons out of the corner of his eye. _Predictable in their own right, barbaric rot that they are. But that’s the last of them. And that damn suspicious Worf is meeting with Huraga see he’s out of the picture as well._ He watches discreetly as they stumble off and pulls her back to the med bay and the bed. He lacks the patience to wait any longer. “Do you want to lay down for this? The sensation is intense and while we _are_ in the infirmary it might be best to minimize the damage.” He leans in with a brush of his lips to her cheek, tasting her skin, his tongue giving just that faint lap to her smooth skin. “You are so terribly precious to me,” he whispers feeling her shiver. It’s isn’t quite right. It isn’t _him_ , after all and Jules doesn’t quite understand why that draw to Garak remains so painfully hatefully strong when everything else has snapped back exactly the way it was. He didn’t realize it until just this moment. “I couldn’t bear to cause you any pain you know. No matter what the reason.”

“Are you sure this is for the procedure, doctor?” she teases archly. He squeezes her shoulder in response trying painfully to keep his reaction, his irritation at being addressed in that manner show through. _It’s too close. So help me if you_ _dare_ _to call him back..._ He tamps that thought down quickly. _Relax, Jules. She knows better. And you know a simple “doctor” won’t do it now._

“I can’t say that I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman once we’re finished.” He watches her eagerly letting those errant thoughts ebb away like the tide. “By my estimation at this hour we should have plenty of time. I’ve accounted for every imaginable scenario and everyone knows that you and I are not to be disturbed in case of emergency. Our research and all...” His eyes sweep up and down as she lets the medical uniform drop from her shoulders, bending over, stepping out of it making a thorough study of her body. 

Jules admires the cleavage pushing up in that white lacy demi bra seeing the peaks of pink nipples peeking over the edges cups, freed finally when she stands and undoes the clasps. He was already half hard, the excitement of the moment, the blood pumping through his body alive, vibrant only pulsing harder as he watches her slide the panties off. Her full hips sway with absent seduction sway left right, Julian watching, remembering the feel of that soft skin beneath his fingers, remembering her taste, the smell of her sweat his face buried between those pale strong thighs as she screamed his name, called him God, and begged him to fuck her. Dr. Lense looks at him with a demure drop of her eyes and sits on the table and he sees the top of her head dip once more, remembering holding soft curls, thrusting into her mouth as she knelt before him the night she arrived on the station. Jules bites the tip of his finger shifting from one foot to the other. _And you looked so beautiful like that, darling. Soon, Jules they’ll all be on their knees. They’ll all be supplicant before you and you’ll be back in the world just like you never left it. God it’s so close. I can’t stand the thought of another delay with this stupid Klingon Cardassion shite but I can live with it as long as everything else keeps falling into place._

He watches her lay back on the bed looking at him almost shyly and he bites that finger harder half whistling around it with excitement, his arms crossing tightly. _Yes, that’s it, on the bed, lay yourself out for me like an offering. That’s what you are, offering everything to me with just the right words, the key unlocking the gates to every secret space of your soul and soon your body will hold nothing back from me. Oh but not just you. You, Leeta, Elim. Oh especially Elim Garak, especially you my beautiful black knight, my perfect Obsidian pawn, you especially will be the ultimate conquest. Do you like the prison, darling? Do you like being locked up like an animal? I spent the last thirteen years locked away watching, waiting for any chance to fulfill my destiny and it won’t be complete until I have you as well. No… had… you_ _had_ _him, didn’t you Jules? You and he that night… the night Odo took him away. It went all according to plan and whatever he did.. whatever he did in that blank span of hours you…_

Jules shakes that thought off redirecting his attention back to the conquest in front of him realizing she’s speaking.

“I don’t know how much of that was me but…” She stops when Jules puts a finger to her lips.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Liz. Without your notes, without your research, without that brilliant mind of yours.” He steps back with another indulgent sweeping gaze over those heavy breasts goosepimpled with cold. _Human, you’re so human, aren’t you?_ Jules’ fingers lightly play over each other, tracing the line of chains beneath the uniform. “You’ve no idea how happy I was to see you step off through the doors.” He takes a moment to clean his hands and retrieve a scalpel, watching the light reflecting beautifully off the metal. He studies her once more, watching her legs squirm slightly together under his scrutiny. He sees her hands clenching at her sides, fingers digging expectantly to the bed. 

“You told me to come…” she says breathlessly. “So I came.”

“Your devotion is like a drug,” Jules breathes with exhilaration as he holds up the scalpel. “Now then.” He presses the flat end to her erect nipple- the left-, teasing, making her halt holding her breath to be quiet. “Where shall I mark you to receive my gift?” The blade moves slowly, cold as it trails down her ribcage and across the pale flat of her stomach. “Where shall I give it to you, darling?” Jules doesn’t know how much more he can stand to wait as he circles her slowly, standing to her right pressing against the hard surface of the bed. He swallows a low groan, the swell of his hard cock rubbing the metal as he turns his head and drinks in every bit of rapture, of that religious ecstasy. _Religion, science, whatever the cause, whatever the lie that fervor, that rapture, those eyes look at me all the same. And it’s only going to get better from here, I promise you that. Once the bio machines link with me, with the dataport, you will know joy greater than anything you’ve ever known before. I can give it all to you; pain, pleasure, ecstasy blown open in that beautiful brain of yours. It should have been you first, Elim, it’s a pity you had to cross me but you’ll know soon enough what it’s like to be mine._

“Tell me, Elizabeth,” he urges softly. He lets the blade bite into her thigh just enough to prick the skin, just enough to make her jump, make it bite deeper and he pulls it back before he loses control of himself. Jules’ left hand grips the table hard while he fights the urge to part her legs further and lick the wound, lick every wet trickle of... He catches himself with an exaggerated shudder. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, darling if I-”

“Here.” Dr. Lense raises her right hand two fingers over her heart. She interrupts him with a trembling urgency that makes him grip on the table tighten even more. “Unless it will... be too deep here.” That looks in her eyes pleads with him and he suddenly envisions himself the dark prince granting immortality to those who pay him obeisance. _Drink from me and live forever, my Mina._ Jules smiles, close mouthed running his tongue excitedly over the back of his teeth lest she see just how truly lustful he is. She is after all conscious and unlike Garak he knows he needs a much lighter touch to guide her along. _No… no you’re certainly nothing like him._ And he thinks of him in that moment, remembering, savoring with such a vivid immediacy he feels like a Cardassian himself.

_“Do you like it when I stick it in you?” He teased the words to the shell of Garak’s ear unable to stop himself from letting his lips brush the ridges down the side of his neck._

_“Yes…” Julian- for he was certainly Julian then- watched the flicker of pupils and heard the intake of breath that the body couldn’t stop when he pressed the blade softly, gently along that sensitive juncture, letting the flat tease down to his shoulder. Julian’s lips moved slowly, kiss, bite, seeing the living mannequin tense as Julian’s entire body pressed naked to Garak’s back._

_“That’s a good boy,” Julian half purred the words but his voice almost shook with excitement. “I’m going to stick it in you again,” he promised feeling the raise of ridges along Garak’s spine rubbing between his pectorals, rubbing his chest, that aching tickle where the swell of Garak’s ass terribly tempted his cock, where it would be so easy to…_

_“It’s going to hurt you know,” Julian wrapped his free arm around Garak’s chest, long fingers fanning out possessively. “Oh it’s going to hurt so beautifully when I mark you here.” He passed the blade to that hand feeling the sticky wet between them as his chest, as his stomach smeared the blood from carved cursive “Jules” in his best penmanship with every shift. “My middle name is longer than my first you know but…” He shifted on his knees unable to help fingers that smoothed Garak’s hair back, sweat sticky strands making the careful coif starting to unwind. “And then your back. Mustn’t forget the back as my dear old mother used to say. But it won’t be any more than you can stand…”_

“Will it be too deep here?” Her words interrupt that beautiful memory and he reluctantly pulls himself back. There will be many more moments like that to come, he considers.

“Only as deep as you can stand it.” The words echo in that lingering dark memory licking at his conscious. Jules lets the warm handle of the scalpel twist in his grip almost taking on a life of its own as he lets it settle down between her breasts coming back to focus his attention on her and her alone. Julian eases his grip on the table, calling calm to his body so that his hand is steady. There’s a brief hungry flicker of his eyes back to that thin red line of blood welling on the inside of her thigh that she doesn’t notice.

“Are they watching us?” she asks looking almost modest for the imaginary audience, her right knee turning inward just a small amount unconsciously obstructing his view. 

“Does that bother you?” He shifts the point of the blade deliberately, brushing the skin like a metal butterfly kiss with a playful smirk on his face. Slowly, carefully he allows that point to sink one, two millimeters deep with an excruciating delicacy epidermis, dermis pierced as easily as sinking into a warm bath. He sees the furrow of her brow and the color that paints her cheeks with a flush. Jules watches dainty hands fall back down to her sides. But he sees the right pause, giving a slight hesitation over her stomach, as if it might slip down between her legs. _Oh you like that don’t you, you naughty little girl? I knew I chose you well, Liz. I knew that I read you perfectly from the start._

He draws the line faintly with expert precision letting his mind become a clinical blank long enough to make the straight razor’s edge split the skin until he reaches the cross perpendicular to the pale round of the bottom of those pert trembling breasts. Jules licks his lips as he watches the blood start to flow off both left and right in small thin streams. _Oh yes yes yes that’s such a beautiful sight._ He feels a faint disappointment that she lacks the perfect ridges of Garak’s strong body to channel blood like the topography of an exotic alien landscape. He can pull up perfectly with his eidetic memory the streams, the slow trickles of Garak’s blood running down those ridges framing his chest, spilling down a perfect cascade… _No, not now, Jules, later_.Jules lifts the blade watching it carefully, and another blessedly near orgasmic slip he lets his tongue taste, dash itself against the rocks and come away with its own wound painting the blade back darker than it was before. He shivers, shifts from one leg to another and grinds his cock to the table hard, throbbing until it hurts. 

Jules can feel his eyes wanting to shut, wanting to fall closed, fall back and let him revel in it but he knows as he lifts his left hand that it will only be better from here.

“Are you ready, love? My pretty Lizzie?” he whispers feeling the hot salty blood well in his mouth just as he feels the tingle of the machines working hard to pull the skin back together and close the wound. Five minutes until it’s repaired. He holds his arm out and presses the scalpel to his palm seeing her eyes track the blade. She nods, her lips parting and he knows all too well the heat, the spread of fire blossoming out with the sting. He feels giddy, rising up on the balls of his feet with anticipation. _Say it. God say it say it._ He waits, almost holding his breath, almost dropping the scalpel as her hands press down to the table, fingers splayed. Her legs rub slightly, sensually sliding against each other that soft tilt of her hips teasing him, he swears she must be doing it on purpose knowing just by looking at him how aroused he is.

“Please… Please God yes…” she whispers looking herself as if the anticipation is too much. He swears he nearly comes at the words, whether God is intended as an address or some common plea he doesn’t care. She says it to him. _Please. God. My God. Yes, that’s right. I am your god. God, Lord, Master, everything._ Jules smiles down at her as he draws the scalpel perhaps deeper than he should across his palm, dark super iron rich blood coming forth. It’s thick. It’s almost like honey as it pools and pours down his heart pumping extra hard to move it out of him and he lets the drops splatter heavy over her belly as if it were his seed painting her skin. He hears the hitch of her voice. He watches her bite her lip, arms shaking as if she were trying to push the very station down beneath her palms. He leans in and puts his wound to hers, letting their blood mingle, letting the bio machines merge between the two of them, closing his eyes feeling the clusters, directing them at will _en masse_.

Jules feels almost dizzy, the explosion bursting out of him like a million points of light and he feels as if he’s the universe itself, as if he’s a star erupting white hot into life hot plasma that cannot be contained entirely. His head swims as every command function hits him at once and he knows that no normal brain, no mind, no body but his could processes it all at once without going insane. _Only you Jules. Not the rest of these mortals, not even the other guinea pig failures rotting away in the Institute. You perfected it. And here it is brilliant and beautiful and every bit yours to command._ It tingles. It almost burns but there is a line that blurs between pleasure and pain as he allocates a neat divide, the cells that will invade, adapt, serve him moving faster than the blood that pumps through his body in such volume that he swears it seems to shimmer through the thick dark liquid that pools sticky and hot between them. Jules breathes heavily, the air feeling heavy and humid around them as he watches the blood push back into her body from the wound, some still trickling out but the rest spreading, obeying their program to invade and multiply. He moves his hand knowing that the wound will heal before bleeding out but also knowing that it won’t be for awhile now, that dark trail spreading to her right breast, the print of his hand like finger paints. It almost makes him laugh to see the childish mark but his attention is drawn to her face as her eyes flutter half shut when it hits. Dr. Lense doesn’t scream but her mouth falls open slack as if she might. He doesn’t take that risk instead taking one last look outside before hurriedly closing the door. He doesn’t care. He’ll hear them coming. _And I don’t want to miss a moment of this._ Jules sees her back arch, sees the bottoms of her feet plant to the table her knees drawing up as the machines move and as he allows the synchronization to detect their motion he can feel the heat of her body, can feel her heartbeat double back in his head, the connection surging like an infinite feedback loop.

“Oh...” He doesn’t even know if the sound comes from her or him and it’s a far more intimate connection than he dared allow with Leeta when he gave her the experimental prototype. He resolves in the back of his mind to remedy that immediately. He can separate it if he tries but for now he doesn’t care to. Jules unzips the uniform as quickly as he can manage as she reaches up for him. He kisses her palm quickly, sloppily, feeling her nails dig into his cheek.

“J-Ju...” She pants, she squirms. He wriggles out of the clothing as best as he can manage while circling to the foot of the table. Her hands move to her breasts and squeeze pale bloodied flesh hard. Her knees come together rubbing, her thighs pressing together and Jules has never been more grateful that he didn’t wear any undergarments in preparation for tonight. He knew he was going to fuck her. But he never imagined it would be with this much desperation as he furiously kicks off shoes, leaving the uniform wrapped around an ankle.

Jules can feel the connection surging between them and he doesn’t even think about clamping it off now, blind to the outside world as he furthers the revolution.

 

Jules clasps Eddington’s hand firmly as soon as he enters the security office. His head remains still, eyes scanning the small room for Odo. There’s a quick tap of thumb to the back of his hand and he smiles faintly releasing the small package into Eddington’s grip. _Good, then he’s gone and taken the bait. I was almost afraid he’d starve himself to death but no, he doesn’t suspect then that my reach even extends here to the very door of Odo’s stronghold._

“I’m so sorry to trouble you at such a busy time, Mr. Eddington, I was here to see Mr. Garak. I don’t… I don’t know whatever his story is but I’d like to think that we’re still friends perhaps.” He ducks his head, knowing the camera is catching everything as Eddington answers perfectly, carefully clasping the small packaged liquid.

‘Well now that’s awfully magnanimous of you, Doctor,” Jules breathes deeply, bracing himself, holding fast at the address. “But I don’t know if that would be advisable given the charges against him.” Jules exhales slowly, face a picture of concern as he turns slowly away from the lens barely moving his lips as he speaks soft as breath.

 _“There are eight doses there, Mr. Eddington. Seven for you, one more for Garak. Has he received the first dosage?”_ He raises his head speaking louder, arms crossing tightly, fingers drumming over his bicep. “I need to see him, Mr. Eddington. I know you have concerns. Leeta has… she hasn’t understood the hold he has over me and God I don’t know how she’s ever forgiven me, how she could be so kind and understanding but… Just once, _please_.” Eddington gives a faint nod, and Jules can feel the almost bursting exultation behind his closely pursed pleading lips. _Another piece into place, see you worry over nothing. Never doubt, never question yourself, Jules. A few more days, A few more days and everything falls into place._

“I understand your position, Doctor but-“

“Please.” He asks again, finger combing his hair as if he might sink to his knees at any moment and tear it out. 

His fingers twist, remembering, reminding himself that right now he needs to focus and center. _Breathe. You know what he’s done now and you know that name is the bloody key just as well as you know there’s fuck all you can do about it except recognize and try to correct whatever damage he does as best as you can. This isn’t like before, you can’t snap out of it on your own with time, with sleep, with anything. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you can’t access half your own memories now, that you can’t put yourself under right, can’t reach the chains, the main control center you can remember what’s important and_ _most_ _important is that even if Julian takes your place you’re still of one mind where it counts. I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you, Elim? I bet you never imagined your pure pristine little doctor could be capable of such grand aspirations but whether his motives match mine it doesn’t much matter. The game’s still on my darling, just like you wanted and just like_ _I_ _want you’re going to lose._ _You’re going to lose and you’re going to be mine and I’ll make you see that soon enough._

Jules can see the warning flash across Eddingon’s face and he realizes that his expression must be starting to mirror his thoughts. _Right. The game. Keep playing the game, Jules, you can’t afford to be sloppy now._ He straightens slowly with a cough, knowing that Odo might be watching this later.

“I’m sorry,” Jules interjects hurriedly, “You can see what a right mess I am.” _Good, good. It’s not as easy without feeling the insipid doctor licking at your thoughts but you’re just as good an actor as you ever were. He’s going to fold. He’s going to fold and you’re going to win and you won’t even have to get nasty to do it._ Julian makes sure to affect that nervous anxious expression. “It would help… It would help my recovery to just face it, face him.” _Face him and make him kneel at my feet. Yes, I should like to see you kneel before me, my deceitful Elim before you surrender to me._

His fingers unconsciously pass over his neck, over the wound covered by the collar of the Starfleet uniform and he lets the pads draws every subtle tactile sense from the delicate lace beneath the uniform feel anxiety begin to meld with anticipation as Eddington takes a hesitant step back.

“This is crazy. I shouldn’t be doing this but you’re the professional.” He drops his voice and whispers “Jules”, stepping aside letting Jules straighten brilliantly like the nightingale released to sing for the Emperor. _The Emperor with no clothes that is. Naked, bared before the world in shame and disgrace with no idea how low he’s fallen. Oh but you’re about to find out if you haven’t realized it already._ He swallows a soft laugh instead letting one last petal of a whisper escape his lips. _“Take one every few days. It will linger but 2 weeks make sure they find you out before then.”_ Eddington leads him back one quick finger held for “yes” per their arrangement everything played perfectly for the footage. _Two weeks it will linger, Mr. Eddington. Two weeks and anything you do will be completely above suspicion. No matter what you do for me, no matter what you may do to aid the Maquis I’ve given you all the deniability you need and in return-_

“Ten Minutes. Any more and I might start to worry. Odo gave me the details. For what it’s worth… a lot of us would do the same in your situation. You’ve been through a lot,” He puts a brief hand to the small of Jules’ back. Ten minutes, it is. Ten minutes of a carefully constructed scenario that cost a precious amount of latinum and one of Quark’s newfound associates from the Syndicate but he has it. Eddington crosses in front of him just as Garak comes into view and Jules lets that magnificent beatific smile split his face. 

“I assure you, Mr. Eddington I shall make the most of what you’ve given me.” He hears the chuckle, sees the shrug of shoulders as Eddington retreats back to the front. “Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, Jules. Take care of yourself.” Jules steps forward towards the cell, seeing the rest surrounding it empty as they ought to be. He doesn’t know how Eddington pulled it off. He knows better than to ask. He can barely conceal the bounce in his step as he walks towards Garak seated on the small cot.

Garak’s focus is on the datapad in his hand, languidly leaning back on the cot when he hears Julian’s footsteps approaching. _No…_ He listens again, his eyes locked to the same series of words as he subtly diverts his focus. _No that is not Julian proper, it’s most certainly Jules._ Garak easily identifies the arrogant swagger, can picture the turn of heel as he stops and decides to let his eyes remain on the screen  in front of him even as he sits up just a bit. He can picture without so much as shifting his eyes sideways the frown at the lack of acknowledgment. He makes a mental wager with himself to see how long before that condescension turns to consternation. Until those hazel eyes flash with rage. He decides five minutes is perfectly generous. _Ah, the ways those imprisoned devise such petty amusements for themselves to pass the time. I’m definitely impressed my dear Julian. I never would have imagined either you or he to have the control to stay away for so long._

“Am I so forgettable my darling Elim that you can sit there in the presence of God without so much as raising your eyes to the heavens?” That voice is poison laced kanar and Garak imagines that Jules must have made a rather large move in the last two weeks to sound so prematurely victorious. He’s noticed that Jules doesn’t bluff well when he’s losing, after all. He wears defeat with the venomous bluster of a wounded snake but far from being concerned by the triumphant strutting, Garak is intrigued. _And here you were concerned with my well being, with the state of my mental health in choosing to remain in this prison, Odo. I’m afraid our earlier encounter has given you a poor appreciation for my skills as an interrogator for in fact I do my best work when I have time to let the artistry take shape on its own. And here it is to give me my reward in all its foolish youthful hubris._

“You’ll forgive me, my dear,” Garak says choosing not to set the datapad aside, “but I’ve been taking this time to catch up on a little light reading. You seem bound and determined for me to take something away from your classical Earth literature and I feel I would be remiss to disappoint your expectations.” Garak scrolls down a few lines letting his attention flicker between the man to his right and the words of the human author Kipling. _“There is no sin so great as ignorance, remember this.”_ _Indeed, truer words were never spoken._ “I believe I’ve found it, you know,” he says, watching the wall all of a sudden as if it were the two of them seated in the replimat over tea and sweets. Jules doesn’t disappoint him with his reaction.

“And what is it you’ve found, darling, beyond the confines of these four walls and this terribly _cold_ station?” he purrs taking a few stalking steps. Garak scrolls down on the page, disaffected as if they were merely discussing the weather.

“I’ve found that if I am Caesar,” he begins thoughtfully, “and I presume that is what you’ve been hinting that all these months. But if I am that fallen Emperor, then it is you, my dear who should naturally be Brutus.” His thumb rubs the edge of the hard encasement in his hand idly. “But I find that to be far too neat, far too convenient and if I may be frank…” He sees Tain’s image suddenly superimposed over the surface screen as if summoned by the three witches of Macbeth. Garak smiles at that imagined image with a soft chuckle. “Surely you must be aware that there are far more Cardassians better suited to that role in this tragedy.” 

He closes his eyes breathing out slowly, that mocking face rippling out with that soft breeze. It’s gone when he opens them again, the screen nothing but words once more. “No, no _you_ are Coriolanus.” He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling that laugh a little louder but no less darkly humored. “Cauis Marcius Coriolanus,” Garak declares, the faint sibilant accent emphasizing every “s” with a damning serpentine hiss. 

He hears Jules whirl in anger, a half turn, a stop, a valiant attempt to reign in that beautiful brutal temper. _Hmm, not even two minutes then. A pity you couldn’t have held out longer._ Odo told him that in no uncertain terms would he allow the security of the station to be compromised and that while he might indulge their foolish lover’s game to a point lacking the evidence Garak holds to truly foil the good doctor’s plan that Garak ought to be well aware he’s walking a very thin line before Odo arrests them both. _Lovers is it?_ Garak discreetly turns the text off, allowing to mirrored screen to reflect in its own darkly beautiful way everything outside the cell. _Do you really have so little understanding of solids and their relationships, Contable that you believe our relationship to be such?_ Garak catches Jules’ eyes flash even with the imperfect mirror and he sees a hand reach up to grasp for chains no longer there instead closing to a fist held tight to his chest.

“Perhaps you are not familiar with that one?” Garak offers with a teasing lilt to his voice as Julian practically throws that fist down and storms back in front of him. Garak sees him just barely catch himself from slamming his hand to the barrier, fingers unballing slowly, deliberately resting on the wall with painstaking care instead. 

“Oh I…” Jules hesitates just a bit and Garak imagines that he must be pressing hard, letting every bit of tension ebb out his fingertips to flow away like a river. Garak admires as the long fingers flex, steal over the smooth surface sensually. _No, I think it might be me after all who’s lacking in understanding. Really, Elim, has your world view become so narrow on this station that you cannot conceive a romantic entanglement lacking that last little textbook criteria of coitus?_ Garak looks at that image, of that foolish manchild strutting about the station so arrogantly, so ridiculously so... so Gul’s damned desirably. _Ravishing when angry_... _Oh Elim, you wonderful fool. And here you deride Dukat for bleating such similar nonsense at some those Bajoran women coerced into his bed._ But even with that chastisement, Garak cannot help but call back that hand, that night as it held his face, each pad a soft lizard kiss that even now makes his heart race faster.

 _“Aren’t you a sight?” Julian whispered as he turned Garak’s jaw, his lips bloodied red as if they might remain stained forever with that transgression. “I can’t imagine what you were thinking… letting me get carried away like that.” He pulled his fingers back the tips stained prettily crimson, the hypnotic five points Garak’s own Meditations on a Crimson Star as Julian slowly licked each one carefully. “You always let me get carried away,” he chastised to an unseen specter as if there were two twin souls standing side by side. Perhaps there were. Garak could only watch him, his legs pricking pins and needles, his arms locked behind his back rubbing infinitesimally to each score of the blade on his raw skin._ _“But am I really?” Julian threw his arms around him suddenly, fiercely, the pressure of the embrace, the salty sweat seeping to the bleeding wounds a thousand scorpion stings that made his entire body erupt in a blink fast burst of a star newly born into the universe. Pain and pleasure, indivisible. Julian clamored, pulled Garak’s head down and softly mouthed the sensitive chufa as he spoke. Yes, definitely pleasure. “No, I’m not. I always know exactly what I’m doing.”_

“Coriolanus,” Jules says repeating the name either on the verge of outburst of anger or entertainment as Garak’s thoughts return to present. Garak bets on the latter and hides a smile when Jules leans against the wall, the side of his head pillowed to it with deliberate affectation as he stares Garak down with what he imagines must be a look of sultry amusement. He adds that to his growing catalogue of “Jules Expressions” filing it adjacent to Julian’s self conscious duck of his head. “Yes, Coriolanus, the fearless, fallible god among men.” He laughs a quite obvious stage laugh and Garak decides it could use a little work. “Tell me, darling, what Gods then do you worship if not me?” His fingers play with his collar, insinuating, the zipper pushed down with every play of his hand until the healing pink scars are visible. Garak is still not looking directly at him, the longer this plays out he more convinced that whatever Jules is going to reveal will be something delightfully wicked. 

“I’m sure you would find them terribly boring, my dear and I have no particular use for mythical deities. I find their caprice tiresome if my own fortune is anything on which to base a completely baseless faith.” He pokes him a little more enjoying the overly dramatic performance nonetheless, throwing in just a small bit of what he deems “Shakespearian panache” himself.

“It is the faithless who often decry us for their suffering.” Jules keeps smiling as he pushes off the wall one grand step arms held high as if he’s spent hours practicing that very motion in front of the mirror. “Don’t worry, darling, it is said that when he comes all suffering shall end and I am nothing if not a benevolent God.” Jules chuckles darkly, softly. “I reward even the faithless, Elim, as long as they’re worthy. And you,” he lowers his hands giving a small turn of hip, tilting his head to look magnificently down. Garak wonders with a strange juvenile turn to his thought if he might angle the screen to look up his nose. “You were a most worthy opponent, darling.”

“Is that what I am? Worthy?” Garak asks mildly. He lets the screen drop with a soft sigh. _All these years the words a man most longs to hear_. _You are worthy. You have been found… acceptable. Ah, but only by you, my dear, a mentally ill Starfleet physician who fancies himself a God._ “Yes, that is the caprice of the gods of which I speak, my dear.” 

He doesn’t expect Jules to understand. Julian perhaps but Julian is not here. It is not Julian who crosses his arms petulantly at the disappointing response. _But is it really so disappointing? I’m sure you wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t find that defiance an unbearable addiction._

“Do you know, darling,” Jules takes a different tact, “that it is a belief of some human faiths that to look upon the face of God is a sin, that to depict his very image is the utmost blasphemy? That, from my mother’s religion.”

“And what of your father?” Garak asks him conversationally recalling that he’s never heard father nor mother mentioned in all the years of their acquaintance. _But where you have a multitude of secrets guarded close to your heart Jules, Julian has but this one and it’s curious that he’s never made mention of their absence._

“My glory seeking father worships money as if he were a Ferengi,” Jules murmurs darkly. Garak notes how quickly his mood changes and he’s pleased that he’s so neatly struck a nerve.

“I’m sure they have a most interesting marriage.” Jules practically stomps his foot as he takes another step face almost to the energy barrier.

“I didn’t come here to discuss the two people I hate the most in this universe, Garak,” he practically spits, “I came here to discuss _us_.” _Us? Us as if that concept, the complexity of everything that entails could be so neatly wrapped into that succinct little word. Do you even understand that “us” of which you speak? Or again, maybe it’s me who’s not understanding._

“There is no “us”, my dear. You came here to gloat your assumed victory like an obnoxious child and I’m afraid I’ve lost interest in humoring you.”

“You say there is no “us” as if you’ve forgotten the night that led you to be imprisoned here.” _Ah yes, that night. Julian wanting, seductive, everything that the two of you devised in that mind to seduce me a kaleidoscope of tacts from innocence to obscenity a million costume changes before my eyes in that short span of time. And here you are believing exactly as I intended that one of your many changes of color indeed found its mark._ Garak finds strangely, that he isn’t sure whether he’s truly happy or not that his subtle manipulation of memories worked so effectively.

“I assure you, my dear, I remember all too well you drinking half my kanar before throwing yourself at me half naked and passing out on the floor.” He tells the truth baldly, knowing that for Jules such a truth could be nothing but a lie. And exactly there is no shift of his countenance, no surprise at such a revelation, his words dismissed entirely. He would’ve expected nothing less. _Liar. That’s what you want to call me, isn’t it, Jules? Because how else would you have made such a skillful exit from my quarters with Odo pounding on the door if I wasn’t completely in your thrall? If you weren’t in complete control. If I hadn’t drank that kanar myself. Checkmate. That’s what you want to say, isn’t it._ It almost tempts him to look and he nearly does, hearing the sudden quiet, hearing those gears turning in Jules’ cunning little brain _._  

“Are you afraid, Elim? Is that why you don’t look at me?” That turn in mood again is fast, mercurial, and Garak finds it oddly thrilling as he realizes that this is the first time he’s truly been able to witness Jules on his own unfettered and unrestrained by any hint of Julian. No, no there’s that one vital connection he made sure to leave in tact but he sees that it hardly plays into any of Jules’ demeanor. Garak shrugs his shoulders.

“Perhaps, I’ve seen as much of you as I care to, my dear.” And he sees at once how his dismissive action riles that unbridled emotion. Garak wonders if this is how Vulcans feel when they observe the other “lesser” races.

“I could make you look at me,” Jules promises and Garak doesn’t doubt for a moment Jules’ complete and utter faith in that declaration. 

“Could you really?” This time Garak allows the laugh, letting it spill forth, letting himself remember how Tain would stand in front of him, how he would sit behind that austere desk, that dark amusement, that hateful chortle at Garak’s youthful arrogance, at his rebelliousness, his naiveté. Really it used to anger him so but he sees, just as he sees Jules about to scream down the wormhole itself in rage that he truly appreciates the elder’s amusement at the younger’s folly. “Could you really?” he repeats not needing to look to see Jules is so terribly close to calling those words, to calling that trump card in this most insignificant pointless of power plays. _“I am the key.” You want to say it so badly, don’t you? You want me on my knees, you want my obedience, you want that little bit of control so badly. My poor Jules, it’s so terribly terribly_ _obvious_ _._ It nearly brings tears to his eyes as Garak laughs, bent over, sides starting to hurt at the thought that Jules would waste such an important play on such trivial nonsense.

Garak has no idea how long it’s been- if ever in fact- that’s he’s laughed so hard like this and perhaps one day he might even let Julian proper in on the secret but oh most certainly not today. It’s possible of course that his extended solitude has finally driven him mad but if this is madness then it’s a welcome change from the slow death from _ennui._ Yes, this is excitement for however long it lasts, an excitement without all the emotional baggage of his past and he’s almost proud to see that Jules even with what he’s found to be the emotional sophistication of a spoiled adolescent has nonetheless managed in this one moment to reign in that unwise flash of temper. _It seems there may be hope for you yet._  

“Oh how should I answer that question? Maybe... Maybe I’ll pretend, Elim that I’m _you_. That I’m a filthy lying amoral bastard for this moment in time and I’ll answer a question with an elusive riddle. A pointless fable that allows me the pleasure of hearing myself speak so that I can… mentally masturbate to the sound of my own voice because if there is one thing I do better than measuring of alien inseams while finding my own pitifully _lacking_ it is filling every blessed moment of silence with self aggrandizing noise meant to validate my own importance.” _My, insulting manhood, check, my position on the station, check, a little ribald swearing, check. Yes, you’ve certainly hit all points though still a bit overdone, I’d say._ Still, Garak feels he would be remiss to not respond with at least equal measure.

“And I in turn,” he begins grandly, “shall endeavor to listen with rapt and vapid attention to your every word whether it be an obvious put on or even a shrouded insult because I certainly cannot perceive the subtle differences in tone, context or anything else that requires a hint of critical analysis. And I shall remain drawn breathlessly to your every movement whilst I obscenely fetishize each bit of your exotic alien aspect for my own self centered self gratification.”

There’s a pregnant pause to that quick retort that fills Garak with a sense of satisfaction that nearly makes him sit up straight and bask in the brilliance of his own wit. But that would make him a very poor sport indeed and Garak has always maintained an implacable sense of fairness when facing even the most woefully inept of opponents. He remains collected, instead putting the screen back to the text already having made up his mind to call Julian to take the reins once Jules has concluded whatever speech he’s doubtless worked up for the occasion. He’s only mildly disappointed that Jules has decided to choose words over throwing something at the barrier.

“Once when man in his infancy lacked the knowledge to understand the many natural wonders of the world he would develop all sorts of myths with which to soothe his fears and explain the unexplainable and such we come to the legends of the Gods who ruled the natural world. And of those gods was Hades who reigned in Hell.” He pauses to be sure Garak is giving him proper attention and Garak has the grace to pause in his reading and contemplate the welds of the ceiling. “And did you know that a living man, that a miserable creature who enters that realm must not consume anything when there lest he remain trapped forever in hell?” Jules smirks, doubtless thinking he’s being particularly mysterious and coy and that Garak catches with a slightly discreet glance when Jules has focused his attention on some imagined audience ahead. 

 _So then it’s in the food isn’t it? Hardly surprising but now I must wonder who in this office you hold in your thrall for there certainly are no lack of possible breaches. Clever boy you really have thought this through, haven’t you?_ He smiles in spite of himself.

“Am I then to assume that I’ve already doomed my days to while away an eternity in this mythical inferno of yours?”

“Only if you deny me, darling.”

“I’m not certain why you think I’m denying you anything if as you claim that night we came together in a mad torrent of passionate coupling.”

“What you’re denying, _Garak_ -” he practically snarls likely indicating his throat. “Are these pretty little marks decorating my skin or do you deny those as well?” _Oh yes, there are those, aren’t there. Pity they’re hardly what you believe them to be but you may get your wish on that soon enough._

“It seems that we’re going round in circles my dear so I’m afraid I’ll just have to ask again. What am I denying you, Julian?” 

Garak turns finally to watch just as Julian does as well. But Julian’s turn is not a turn of his body, but a crawling metamorphosis from he who would be God to the doctor staring back at him. Garak knows that there is no shift of DNA, no true change of the landscape of those features but nonetheless he sees the symmetry itself morph on that face until those eyes appear bigger, pleading, more desperate as they look at him haunted, and he can only imagine the deluge of memories slamming into his conscious awareness all at once.

“What… what do you… deny me, Garak?” he asks as if he’s forgotten how to speak and Garak can see him walk as close to the barrier as he dare before it hurts him. “This.” He indicates the invisible wall with a frown. “You.” He runs fingers through his hair stepping back. “Everything.” He breathes out frustrated, a steady focus coming back to his expression.

“You’re not going to win. I know you know that. And if you don’t I really should warn you that you’ve no chance at all.” He turns his head, a show of his hand as Garak sees a newly minted dataport skin still faintly pink where the scars heal, wisely opposite the side where the earring is on prominent display. “You know what this is, don’t you? It’s not what you think, it isn’t some net girl net boy nonsense it’s...” He looks uncertain to reveal the secret but shakes his head summoning that determination. “I’m only... I’m only telling you this because I want you to choose... to choose correctly. You see this is the control device for the bio machines from the Ennis who I told you about. The few deactivated ones I was able to collect and secret away. Only the machines aren’t dependent on the moon but on me now. The machines, the people whose bodies are flooded with the machines. Life, death, disability, everything. Not that I would ever...” Julian swallows hard looking almost terrified by the prospect of that power with a hasty shake of his head. “I would never... it’s just... it was necessary is all it was... It was the final step that I needed to give us all that eternity.” _Oh you beautiful, precious fool. Why would you ever tell me this you have no idea what I could-_

“So you see, right? I control everything. I’ve almost generated enough of the necessary carrier for everyone I need and I haven’t... I haven’t given it to you yet but you couldn’t stop me if I wanted to. I wouldn’t do that though. Those who drink... are those who already believe. But you know that I’m not always in control, Garak and while I’d never force that on you... I know you must think I’m a fool to be saying all this to you but it’s not just that I want to win... that I want to have you willing, wanting, accepting. I want you to see that I’m not just this useless Federation dullard. I want you to see that I’m…” _Worthy of you,_ echoes in his mind not out of arrogance but out of a sibling sense of longing for that acknowledgment, that desperate need to be taken, accepted, and not found wanting. “I’m better than you ever realized, Garak. Better than _I_ thought I could be and if it took this madness, if it took this game to see it then whatever price must be met will be worth it.”

He turns away, walking slowly towards the door with his arms crossed almost self consciously and Garak almost has to strain to hear him speaking.

“I’m going to save everyone, you know. Not just the mortal men doomed to die, as Tolkein would say but the universe. It just has to start with a seed in space that can be nurtured and blossom into a force to…” He stops himself and Garak decides here is where Jules should begin with his grand design of galactic supremacy. Except for now there is no Jules, only Julian and he shakes his head with a sigh. “If I have eternity. Whether that eternity passes in the blink of an eye, the blink of two cells dividing that will change the destiny of everything or whether it is a true city of forever then… I need to try. I need that eternity. With or without you.” He turns back, mouth pursed and Garak takes note of the dark circles haunting beneath his eyes and the hair not messily Jules disheveled but Julian breaking apart.

“What do you have to say, Garak? You know you’re out of time after all. I suppose this is me giving you one last chance to go. I’ve won.” He shrugs his shoulders as if the conclusion was already inevitable. He lacks Jules’ bravado, his arrogance, yet it is that pity that infuriates him. It is that pity Julian displays as he waits only a moment and finds whatever answer he desires out of his reach. It is that pity as he shakes his head and turns away resigned to that predetermined fate that he’s seen as if he really were some grandiose seer that makes Garakrise like one of those mythical historic human figures he’s read and raise his arm. He salutes in that ancient human fashion knowing Julian cannot see and lacks the mettle to turn back around as he speaks softly, dangerously. _No, this is far from the end, my dear, you don’t get to bow out of the game that easily. Not after you already swore to play through to the bitter end._

“I say, may you live forever, my dear,” he says holding that arm for just another moment as Julian stops mid stride.

“You know, Garak,” Julian answers an uneasy awkward laugh lacing his voice. “The ancient Greeks considered those words a curse.”

Garak lowers his hand face painted back with a small smile as he takes his seat again on the spartan cot.

“Really? How Fascinating.”

 

And long after Julian has gone and he’s neared the end of Kipling’s whimsical tale, Garak looks up to Odo entering near his cell.

“Ah, Constable, just the man I was looking for. I wonder… could you put me in touch with Major Kira? I believe it is finally my turn in this little… game as you’ve so glibly dubbed it and thus time to play my best piece.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick credit where Julian refers to Coriolanus as the "fearless fallible god among men", that line is taken directly from here www.smilepolitely.com/arts/coriolanus/ . It was just too perfect not to throw in.


	9. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened "that night" that Julian and Garak were alone in the dark in his rooms? The mystery solved! Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than expected to get this but Chapter 8 shouldn't be as bad *knocks on wood*. Anyway, this takes place between chapters 6 and 7 and it was a tough decision on its placement but ultimately I thought it would actually work better after chapter 7. The chapter that clears some things up but may make for more puzzles. Either way, my beta had me crying bitter tears when he had me cleave it in half but i think it worked out for the better. Thank you so much all of you still keeping with this story. I'm really excited for its conclusion (and earning its rating to boot haha). C&C is of course welcome!

_Garak’s Chambers (2 weeks prior)_

 

_It was his index finger on the left hand which moved first, a curious thing since he was right handed. But it didn’t stop there, even though that alone would have been a miracle itself. No. There were more that followed: middle, ring, thumb, until he felt his entire hand able to curl into a fist. It balled tight, flexing hard, as if he were able to actualize every bit of strength in his body to that singular point. It was that tension which brought to the forefront a sudden awareness, a drawing back from the darkness, and he blinked quickly, realizing that in fact he_ _could_ _blink. He could move his head, and his neck craned down, eyes focused exactly where they needed to be most- the chains. Those heavy silver shackles weighted heavily around his neck until he feared they would drag him down beneath the hard surface on which he rested, into a dark airless abyss of nightmares beneath his knees._

_But as he looked down he saw nothing but the solid floor. There were no nightmares, no demons, no phantom voices. It was silence. He realized that there was nothing but him in this room with those manacles, with those iron- No. No, they weren’t iron, he realized as his entire left arm now came back to his control, and he was able to reach up and grasp them. It wasn’t iron. It wasn’t titanium or some other bond unbreakable by human hands, but a fragile, delicate link rife with infinitesimal breaks that he could feel so easily. Julian had no idea why he thought they were so heavy before. He grasped them hard, his hand clutching and pulling, and the more he tugged the more he felt his heart beat loudly in his own body. The more the warmth, the light, everything that he’d been missing in the time… Time… How much time had it been? He looked down and saw at his feet sand pouring from his naked body, sloughing off, running down until he knelt in the center, the stone crumbling from around his legs in a fine waterfall of fine white granules. He caught himself on his hands, falling forward, the weight of his body almost too much to handle._

_“Julian…” His name. Yes. Yes, that was… his name, the name that was his and his alone. He swallowed air as if he were taking his first breath into the world. He sucked in another greedy breath as the light grew almost blinding to his eyes and he finally began to feel as if his legs might support him to rise. He rose on unsteady feet, fixated on the floor beneath him, on his toes curling into the hard ground. He flexed them a few times, marveling at his body responding to the commands of his mind so easily. He was almost afraid to raise his head as the motion began to lose its novelty, but at last he looked and saw in front of him a door that seemed far too small to fit him through. He started walking towards it anyway, finding that the more he walked, the distance stayed the same._

_His steps wavered at first, but grew stronger as his feet became used to the hard floor. He wasn’t sure when, but somehow all at once, the distance closed, the space concentrating down then to a long hallway. It was then that a single beacon of light starting shining brilliantly from beneath the door. “Julian.” He heard that name spoken again and it almost made him break into a run. He didn’t run; but he walked faster. He saw as he approached, ivy tendrils wrapped around that door, the wood old, splintered, but still sturdy. When he got closer still, he heard the crunch of snow beneath his feet, and saw on every side trees tall enough to cover the entire sky._

_Old, massive Douglas firs stood tall around him. That’s what was being created before his eyes. That darkened tunnel gave way to the forest around him in the midst of that long winter night. Winter. Yes. Winter had come. Winter had set in. He looked down at his feel sinking into the snow feeling no chill. And then he blinked, and the way was clear. The ground was a narrow back of fallen needles weeds cleared to dirt with only a few errant stumps defiantly drawing to the sky. He knew this path. He knew this place. And when he looked up once more that door changed again with some ancient alchemical magic. It became a gate, an old iron gate leading into the beautiful gardens of his aunt’s home on Earth in the English countrywide._

_“That’s right… you were the only one who ever knew… who ever believed… that it was all here. That it was all me. You were the only one who listened, who understood me...” He whispered the words to himself as he neared the gate. It grew larger the closer he got, until it towered over even his adult self as if he were once again a child. It was cold, he seemed to realize, that snow, that wind chilling him as it blew at his back. He could feel the cold again, could feel deeply that sensation as he peered desperately  into that door into summer. Julian reached out feeling the warmth, feeling the sun on the other side of the gate and through the bars he could see someone near the swing, calling to him softly._

_“Open the gate, Julian.” He reached out hesitant, not sure if he had to strength to move the heavy swinging gate on the rusty old hinge. His aunt had always had to open it for him with his clumsy uncoordinated hands. Julian breathed in deeply, hearing her voice, feeling that warmth bleeding through and he closed his eyes- not enough to fall into sleep but to remember. Yes, that’s right. He_ _did_ _know how to open the gate. He knew how to open everything._

_“The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.” The gate seemed to shrink as those words were spoken, growing smaller, the iron bars easily sliding into his grip. “And I have promises to keep.” Julian whispered the words to himself hearing the click of the latch, the gate groaning as he looked beyond it and saw, not his aunt sitting on that old stone bench in the garden, but- “And miles to go before I sleep.”_

_Julian pushed on it, and weightless beneath his fingers, it flew open pulling him into the light of the old garden._

_“And miles to go before you sleep.”_

His eyes snapped awake, body jerking with an almost violent start. Julian sucked in a breath, as if somehow he hasn’t been breathing, as if he’d been underwater, lungs burning as he sat up. The blood rushed to his head all at once. Julian hissed as his eyes blinked rapidly, scanning the room expecting a flurry of lights, expecting that garden and his aunt with a big basket of scones. Except, of course it was dark and she was very much _not there._ Julian took in the shadows of the room- nightmare inkblots blurring to mundane minutiae. No, of course she wasn’t not here because there was Deep Space Nine, and there was not even his own quarters and thus could only be-

“Julian?” He heard Garak’s voice, softly at his ear, that same voice which called to him, that same voice which brought him out of the darkness and into well, a darkness of another sort. He brought a hand to his temple trying to clear out the cobwebs as it began to come back to him in some bizarre whirl of images that he couldn’t quite sort.

“I’m sorry I… I think I must’ve been dreaming something… something impossible or at the very least so improbable as to be-” It was then he realized that he was in fact sitting up in Garak’s bed naked, the sheets pooled at his feet. He felt a strange sense of calm settling over him as the blanket of memories settled, sorted, like a perfect index. “…As to be completely true… It’s true then… isn’t it?”

“You know, that’s the whimsy of truth, my dear,” Garak answered sounding almost amused from his seat on the edge of the bed. Julian read his own name in faint upraised puckered skin a low trail of foothills winding over and around the ridges along Garak’s spine. “It is a far more fickle and subjective mistress than she would have you believe.” Julian looked away from him quickly drawing his knees to his chest making a study of the plain wall. The plain simple wall, exactly as it appeared without the trappings of lies, fanciful imaginings, feelings; it comforted him in a moment when he felt his head may very well break apart. Garak’s answer was a damning admission of guilt as far as he was concerned. Guilt _?_ He almost laughed at that. No. The guilt was solely on him. Julian swallowed hard and absently brought a hand up to his throat feeling for those chains. They were gone. But in their place he could feel the bite of wet stinging scratches, skin raw and bleeding from what, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

“And have you had me then?” he demanded bitterly. “As many times as you needed me?”

“Have I?” Garak’s cryptic murmur just made him laugh humorlessly.

“Of course I’m wasting my time expecting a straight answer out of the Cheshire Cat.” Julian forced himself to look at Garak’s back soberly, that memory a sharp stab of nerves to the pit of his stomach as he read once more _“JULIAN”._ It made him faintly nauseous. “I’m putting a stop to this. All of it. I don’t know what you know, what you don’t know, and frankly I don’t _care_. I know what _I’ve_ done and I…” he faltered, feeling his shoulders shake, the breath drawing out of his body as if by some demonic force, and he felt his chest constrict so tightly so painfully with that pressure, it made him feel like he was back in his last year of school right after he-.

“Well that was certainly anticlimactic.” Garak sounded almost disappointed and it made that flutter of anxiety start to beat to anger. Julian fought instead to bring it to a heel of determination.

“I _know_ what I’ve done.” He repeated forcefully, sternly letting go of his knees, stopping the childish comfort. Julian rose, ignoring the indignity of his nudity as he noted that Garak was fully clothed. He imagined his own garments must be in the outer sitting room, a dozen memories rushing to the forefront that he quickly tamped down. “This was… this is… a mistake. All of it. Surely… surely you know that just as sure as it’s _you_ that it had to be you that brought me back.”

“Is this the part where you cry that I’ve defiled your maidenly honor and thus must make reparations?”

“This isn’t funny, Garak!”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t find it funny, now would you, Doctor?”

“I don’t…” He exhaled frustrated, seeing Garak watching him with nothing more than bland curiosity as if he was too _boring_ to be worth the attention. “For God’s sake a man is _dead_!”

“I don’t believe that’s either been entirely confirmed or denied,” Garak replied with an infuriating glibness.

“Have you gone mad!?” Julian stared at him incredulously hands going to Garak’s shoulders, seeing him tense, fingers digging in and his he couldn’t understand just _why_ it was that he barely seemed to be reacting at all. “Did you hear me?”

“You _are_ shouting,” Garak said still looking at him with a cool assessment that was completely unnerving. “I must admit I hadn’t quite anticipated this reaction.”

“You hadn’t…” Julian half hiccuped, half swallowed down hysterical laughter the more he remembered, the drugs, the mind control, the manipulation, the great insanity, Leeta, Elizabeth, Garak. He swallowed hard, shutting his eyes, fingers behind his neck pressing hard. “Exactly how did you expect I’d react to realizing everything I’ve done… everything he… I… _I’ve_ been planning to do?” His voice was quiet, hanging to sanity by the thinnest sliver and he wasn’t sure that he could hold it together long enough to understand. He thought that he might just start screaming and possibly not stop until they finally came to take him away. Julian felt his knees nearly buckle under him as he took another deep steadying breath. “Forget it just…” He needed to get dressed. Julian went for the door, finding Garak unwilling to cede that space that he needed to pass. “What are you doing, Garak?”

“It’s strange,” Garak continued more talking to himself than to Julian. “You’ve definitely been acting within your normal behavioral parameters at times during these past few months and especially in the beginning there were moments that one could clearly see…” 

“Garak,” that desperation was beginning to claw its way to the surface once more, Julian shoving him hard, hardly causing him to move. “I just need… please…”

“You really weren’t acting as yourself… that you can recall at any point?”

“No! Of course not, do you really think… do you really think that I could _possibly_ that I would ever…” His hands stopped on Garak’s shoulders, head ducking and he laughed softly. “My God… You really believe… you really think that I’m some sort of… of monster, don’t you?”

“I suppose I should have accounted for this reaction, but it seemed so unlikely,” Garak’s answer was once more infuriatingly evasive. “Ah, but that is the beauty of the job, isn’t it Elim,” He said to himself, gently taking Julian’s hands and lowering them back to his sides. Julian opened his mouth again to protest, to demand just what in the hell was going on in that crazy Cardassian head of his, but Garak stopped him. He squeezed Julian’s hands lightly, fingers carefully, slowly moving until his thumbs rested to the inside of his wrists. Julian found that even in this madness his breath caught again the ghost of a memory insinuating itself back painfully to the forefront so vividly that he could almost believe it was happening right then. _He felt Garak’s hands tighter, harder, pinning his wrists back down to the mattress of the bed, teeth at his neck at his shoulder_ , _some primitive hiss in his ear as Julian arched against him, a knee up, his body twisting as if to roll them over but instead he-_

Julian blinked rapidly, eyelids fluttering the landscape fast like the lens of an ancient Earth film.

“Garak,” he said slowly, calmly, “I need to go. If you cannot see anything else, surely you realize that this cannot continue. I know you see it. Whatever it is you think is happening, whatever has happened I know that you’ve been… trying to… stop the horror that I’ve brought to this station… that you’ve even been trying to help me. I _know_ you have.” He looked at Garak’s hands still holding his wrists with steady bemusement. “But what I don’t know, what I seem to be painfully, frightfully in the dark about, is what’s changed. What makes you think that-”

“You.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s you, doctor, _Julian_. No, I suppose that’s not entirely accurate. I should say, Julian, that I came to a very important realization recently, thanks in no small part to you yourself.”

“This is hardly the time to be coy,” Julian snapped.

“It’s all you,” Garaks answered looking at him brightly, beautifully as if watching the closed petals of a dull unremarkable bud bloom to peony beauty before his eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s what you said to me tonight, Julian. Unless perhaps you’ve forgotten that particular memory in a haze of other meaningless endearments murmured under the freeing cover of darkness.” His fingertips brushed Julian’s hair back, those long tendrils, unfamiliar to his skin for all those years now back, and all the baggage that came with that carefully crafted persona. But beyond that, more present, more damning was how those calloused pads brought an electric arc that he found alarming in their tactile familiarity to his skin. “You know, I’ve often found that’s when some of the best secret are revealed.”

“ _This is where the best secrets are revealed, my dear Julian…” hushed to the shell of his ear, hands to his shoulders. Garak let his tongue trace imagined ridges, trilling along Julian’s neck until his every hitch of breath was in time to that beat. “But what secrets are you hiding?” Those fingers curled tighter until Julian took hold of dark locks pulling his head back with a strength those slender arms didn’t appear to possess._

_“It’s all me, you know,” he whispered fervently, their foreheads touching for just an instant. He turned his head, eyes slipping up, down, meeting Garak’s for not a fraction of time before speaking softly against his mouth. “It always has been.”_

“It always has been…” Julian parroted back repetition of that sobering memory softly, dumbly, fingers to his own mouth as if he could not believe it was he who spoke the words. He took a step back that realization hitting like a splash of ice water to the face.

“Of course, my dear,” Garak answered calmly. “I would be a terribly poor friend were I to leave you to the mercy of an unwanted psychic intruder but…”

“But?”

“But then I realized after I saw... ah but the how is not important so much as the fact that I did at all- quite early in fact. I came to the realization rather early, my dear Julian, that there is no invader and that all of that darkness wrapped in Federation purity is the lovely paradox that is Julian Bashir.” Julian almost thought that was the whole of it until Garak added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “And _that_ is where the game became far more interesting.”

“Game?! You think that this is all a damn game?! Do you have any idea the scope of what I’ve done?! What I’ve done to you even?!”

“Tss tsss...” A rebuke, a hissing delicate call for quiet. Garak pressed a fingers to Julian’s lips with a smile far too predatorily excited. It should have frightened him. It didn’t. “Everything is a game, my dear. But not everyone knows that they’re playing.”

“This isn’t a game,” Julian insisted stubbornly.

“Oh but it _is_ , dear Julian.” Garak contradicted, that smile never leaving his face. “And do you know what I want more than anything right now?”

Julian kept his mouth closed to a tight line. If he didn’t answer then Garak wouldn’t answer. If he only remained silent, if he held his tongue, then they might remain locked in this world of stone, unmoving, immortal, safe from having to step back into their own time. But he knew that that like anything else it was doomed to die, to crumble into dust and slip through his fingers, pitiful paltry sand swept away by waves far greater than just the two of them. 

“What do you want, Garak?” Julian asked, almost terrified of the answer, voice an unsteady tremble. He looked out to the main sitting room, to his clothes strewn on the floor in a trail leading here. His eyes hyper focused on the Starfleet uniform crumpled in a ball next to the sofa. His arms crossed even in the heat of the room an unconscious shiver fissioning up his spine giving him goosebumps. It seemed in that moment that he already knew the answer.

“I want you to finish the game of course.” The words whipped past him like a bitter wind.

Julian’s bark of laughter was ugly and scornful.

“Never. Do you hear me? Not in a million damn years. I will _never_ again become that monster. Not for anyone, not even you.” Julian took a step, turned away, hand pressed to the doorway. He looked at those clothes, legs locked into some static status as if he were once more stone. He just stood there staring harder repeating emphatically. “Not even for you.”

“Such a curious choice of words,” Garak murmured walking past him. “As if I should loom so large in your worldview that I could command such things.” Julian felt him rush past and watched as he carefully took the uniform first, folding it with delicate consideration. “But that begs the question of why you started the game in the first place.” He set the folded uniform on the end of the sofa moving next to a balled up pair of red panties.

“I did _not-_ ”

“Oh, but you _did_ , Julian. Whether you chose to accept the truth from this “lying lizard’s tongue”, as you so colorfully said earlier this evening, there it stands. For while you may have the station fooled, your friends, your conquests, even yourself, you cannot fool me, not any longer. Remember the one truth we have now in this stunning dance of deception. The one constant in the equation; it is all you. And so again, now that we understand that it is not _you_ who are at the mercy of a cruel and malicious alter ego, now that we understand it is not _you_ who is the slave to the demon’s desires, but he to yours, the question remains, why did _you_ start the game, Julian?” Garak placed the last piece of folded clothing on top of the pile, a red satin brassiere, staring Julian in the face, the color of blood. Julian had his mouth closed tightly still staring at the pile hard. His expression was unreadable, some deep introspection as his fingers curled, clutching the wall as if he might rip a piece from the frame with nothing but the strength of his hand. He stared hard, eyes a wavering wavy mess as he looked further down to the floor and bowed his head. 

Garak waited patiently, taking a seat at the other end of the sofa, until it looked as if Julian might well double over and crash to the floor. His shoulders were tense, the pitiful naked form, the caterpillar cocooning itself, wrapped tighter and tighter until it might suffocate and burst forth renewed into a new and unbreakable body. There was a deep draw of breath, long, easily a slow sip of air engulfing more counts than may have seemed possible. And then with an unsteady exhale, doubt breathed out slowly, more steadily, until Julian stood straight, releasing the wall, meeting Garak’s patient expression with an odd gravity.

“If you win,” he said walking into the room, “then I’ll tell you.” Julian grabbed the undergarments, no hesitation in slipping that red satin up and over his slim hips well aware of Garak’s eyes on him. “If this is what you want. If this _sick_ scenario, if this _game_ is what you want... if you won’t allow me to stop it then you damn well better be hellbent on stopping it yourself, Garak,” he practically spit as he donned the brassiere, an absent flicker of his eyes even in that anger to see if Garak was watching him.

“The door is not locked, Julian. For all your aspersions, for all your venomous castigations, you only need but walk out now,” Garak answered mildly. “I should hardly think that after your grand ethical proselytizing that my petty whims would hold such sway over your carefully crafted moral compass.” Julian almost ripped the uniform as he tugged it on shaking his head violently back and forth; a wild whip to cast out some imagined demon. Long fingers pushing back, threading through that thick mane, his hands came to a stop around the back of his neck and he looked at Garak, the top still unzipped haphazard and loose. He opened his mouth, started, and closed it again, silently a moment longer. He held Garak’s eyes, searching, every secret space of his soul seemingly poured out in that agonized expression before he looked down at the darkened floor once more.

“I could almost-” He never got to finish that sentence.

The door chimed and Julian swore. His attention vacillated wildly between the door and Garak, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“I… I wasn’t aware you were expecting company…” Julian’s voice intoned hollowly, the same words spoken by Garak in his own chambers a seeming eternity before the entrance of a different visitor there at Julian’s calculation. 

“Oh come now you’ll have to do better than that. Why after the beautiful performance you gave me just now, my expectations for your lies have increased exponentially. No, you won’t be slacking on my watch… Jules.” His head flew up at the name from Garak’s lips, the shift instantaneous to that cue. That second self took immediate control, his mouth thin and angry. 

“Well if you’re so bloody fucking smart, Elim Garak, then I don’t need to lie now, do I?” He glared at the door, at the loud knock as Odo’s voice came through clear and hard.

“Mr. Garak, I know you’re in there and you know I can override whatever codes you have in place.” Julian looked at his shoes and picked them up instead under an arm stepping back towards the bathroom. Garak chided him with another reproving click of his tongue.

“Are you giving up so easily, Jules? The truth is such a lazy and uncreative way out.” Garak turned back to the door. “Now I wonder how long it will take the good Constable to override my newly minted security codes. I did pay a good price for them after all. You know that’s the funny thing about doors. Without a lock, anyone can open it, can insinuate themselves inside. But even with a lock, there’s always a way, always a trick-”

“Bugger the door, bugger your tricks, bugger you, he _cannot_ see me in here,” Jules snarled at Garak as if they were co conspirators arguing over an escape plan and not two adversaries nearing a final showdown.

“Yes, I can see where that might look suspicious,” Garak agreed mildly as he heard Odo outside beginning a series of fast entries.

“Or would it looks so suspicious?” Jules mused to himself as he entered a moment of dawning clarity. His eyes dropped to the table’s surface, his posture relaxing. “Would it really?” He fingered the wounds around his throat as he realized he had in fact some of them back open to bleeding once more. He danced his fingers down with a deep breath taking hold of his wrist squeezing hard to bruise with a faint grimace. He repeated the action to the other, the effort making him wince once more in pain but the darkening of skin began as expected. Jules looked at Garak with a nasty smirk. “Care to wager whose lies will win this one, darling? I can do a sight better than that even with the time that I have.”

“That would be unwise,” Garak answered softly, darkly, but with a playful glint in his eyes.

“And why is that?” Jules challenged.

“Because I never laid a hand on your, my dear.”

“What?” Jules looked stunned, blinking only once turning fast to the door gripping the shoes tightly. He couldn’t afford that gamble, then. “The hell you-”

It was then that his eyes locked onto the table once more, bright and near feverish when he glimpsed the half empty bottle of kanar; the same bottle he’d brought over that night weeks ago. “Garak?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sure I’ll look a right arse if this doesn’t work but…” Jules looked at Garak crossing fingers childishly behind his back. “I am the key.”

He didn’t have to wait long.

“I am the lock.” 

 


	10. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the pieces begin to come together, Julian and Garak both move to play their final hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited because I can picture the next chapter already mapping itself out quite nicely. There's only about 2-3 more chapters to go til the end and then everyone will actually see the one scene this whole crazy thing was written to lead up to as well as see why this gets the rating it had haha. This went through a lot of edits and changes while my beta came at me with a machete a few times. Still, I couldn't have done it without him and I owe him a lot of thanks for helping me hammer this out. I tried to eliminate all the confusing stuff, but still, there may be bits that are. So just note that of the 4 separate sections, the first one chronologically falls between the second and third. Also I had to put the thoughts in '...' for the italicized portions.
> 
> I want to give a huge amount of thanks as well to everyone who has read this and supported my efforts towards the finish as long as it's taken to even get this far. Yo've all been wonderful with your encouragement and it really means a lot to me. This chapter here I'm sure is the longest to date but maybe that'll make up for the short interlude I'd posted before. So hopefully things are starting to make more sense, and I was extremely pleased to get some of Julian's back story finally fleshed out beyond vague references. Anyhoo, C&C is always welcome and thanks again!

    _“What in bloody hells is_ _he_ _doing here?!” Julian- at least to most of Ops he was still Julian- created a rather dramatic picture stopped in the doorway glaring murderously at Garak. There was a stunned silence which followed for just a moment, Garak the first to find his voice answering with barely concealed amusement._

_“Well I_ _was_ _about to return to my shop since I’m finished taking the Captain’s measurements, but if you have a problem, doctor-”_

_“If I have a problem,” Julian sneered back hardly aware of the eyes watching him from the wardroom, “Now what could I possibly have a problem with, Garak? Maybe you could start by telling me how a lying murderous snake came to pull himself out of his hole so easily.”_

_“I’ll be certain to ask Dukat the next time I have an opportunity to speak with him though you may find yourself waiting some time for the answer, seeing as we’re not on the best of terms at the moment.” His voice was mild again, that amusement showing through. Kira laughed softly, and Miles as well did little to hide his own snicker._

_“He’s got you there, mate.” Julian’s eyes were angry darkened glass that never left Garak’s face as he spoke through gritted teeth._

_“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Garak.” He looked up furiously at Odo who met that tantrum unimpressed. “Is security so lax on this station that we let murderers go free now? Not to speak of everything else that you’re surely aware of now.”_

_“I don’t think you want to go there, my dear,” Garak supplied helpfully._

_“No, doctor, you definitely do not “want to go there’ as Mr. Garak says,” Odo replied darkly, “Unless we’d like to address the matter of wasting personnel and station resources on doctored isolinear rods and impeding a serious missing persons investigation with complete fabrications.”_

_Jadzia’s hand went up, covering her mouth either astonished or excited- likely a combination of both bubbling with voyeuristic glee- watching the display on the edge of her seat. Captain Sisko’s face didn’t look even a fraction so amused as he took a step forward, smile glittering with malice._

_“Gentlemen,” he interrupted in a tone that dared either of them to answer wrong. “Is there something going on that I should be aware of?” Julian blanched, face an unbecoming pale as he slowly brought his arms behind his back balling knuckles white as he breathed out slowly, his answering nod jerky and stiff, the answering smile on his face a clear exercise in restraint._

_“No Captain. Not at all. Just a bit of a difference of opinion between me and Mr. Garak. I apologize, it won’t happen again.”_

_“Good. See that it doesn’t.” Captain Sisko gave a quick nod to Garak who returned the gesture. “That will be all Mr. Garak.”_

_“Of course,” Garak replied easily, slipping back past Julian with a distantly polite smile. Julian followed his retreat, eyes nearly burning a hole in Garak’s back as he took a few slow deep breaths before turning back to the room. He reached up briefly towards his collar then stopped, leaving his hand clenched in front of his chest with a faintly distant perturbed look at the window._

_“Doctor Bashir,” Captain Sisko interrupted whatever introspection that he’d chosen to indulge in. “I believe I’d asked the senior staff to meet in the wardroom at 1300.”Julian stiffened his neck, a slight turn to the side, his eyes cast down and off into the distance as if considering a multitude of responses before settling on an awkward shuffle of feet, hands behind his back. There was a careful blankness to that expression, Julian’s eyes not entirely meeting Sisko’s when he looked up._

_“I’m sorry, Captain, there was something I had to attend to that couldn’t wait.”_

_“I was not made aware of any medical emergencies in the infirmary, doctor.” Julian closed his eyes a moment, attention curiously on him with his distant almost dismissive tone. Only Worf revealed any visible surprise to that defiant stance. Jadzia concealed a small smile while Miles leaned in and whispered something to Kira that Julian did not see._

_“It was a personal matter, sir.”_

_“I see,” Sisko answered as if addressing a rebellious teenager. “And was this_ _personal_ _matter more important than the security and sovereignty of the entire Cardassian Empire?” The question dared him to answer in the affirmative and Julian only looked for a moment as if he might actually take the bait._

_Again the response was slower than it might have been, Julian’s eyes once more evasive._

_“No sir…” he trailed off, looking as if he might say something further as he looked at Miles curiously. “You have my word that it won’t happen again.” It was automatic, almost bored as Julian looked from Miles to Kira discreetly. Miles nodded once and a smile crossed Julian’s face almost too quickly to see before it was gone, his voice far more engaged as he met Captain Sisko’s eyes for the first time since his entrance. “I have it under control now,” he said a gravity, a pleading to that tone as if this were not the first time such a conversation had been had. Captain Sisko nodded, looking at Julian concerned briefly._

_“Don’t forget what we discussed earlier, doctor.” He put a hand on Julian’s shoulder, a brief touch, just a bare flutter of tension passing through in response. Julian dropped it quickly._

_“Yes, when all this is over, of course I have no objections.” The words were an almost impatient rush held in check by a thread as Captain Sisko left the room followed by Worf. There was an objection raised by Worf, quickly silenced by Captain Sisko with a shake of his head. Julian saw none of it.. Odo was next, lingering just long enough to give Julian a measured look. Any pretense of contrition vanished from Julian’s face as he met that expression with an arrogant smirk, arms crossed._

_“I should throw you both in a cell together,” he said gruffly, “but I think you’d enjoy that too much.”_

_“Maybe I’ll invite you to watch next time,” Julian taunted to his back. There was no answer in response, Jadzia looking slightly concerned as she too went to leave._

_“You_ _are_ _okay, aren’t you, J-”His finger to her lips, fast but gentle silenced the near speak of a name; which name it would never be known. He smiled at her, cocksure, stepping back as her expression turned thoughtful and assessing._

_“Never better, darling,” he promised, turning around dismissive, as Miles rose at last, a look shared between the two of them._

_Only Kira remained then, looking at him with an unusual grace to her expression._

_“Darling Kira,” Julian said grandly, looking down as he spoke. “Were you waiting on me?” He stood a moment longer, lingering in that position before deigning to take a seat._

_“You got me,” she said with a shrug, her entire attention focused on him. He turned to her, searching, his fingers slowly, insidiously dancing down her arm, watching her carefully._

_“Do I really?” he murmured, still looking for something as she put a hand over his. “I know you’ve been talking to Leeta,” He said, looking at her hand over his. “It still stings… when I think about it…” She ducked her head, meeting his eyes with an uncharacteristic deference._

_“I’m sorry, Jules. I guess I just didn’t understand… That was impressive you know... what you did back there.”_

_“That wasn’t me you know. It was the will of the Prophets.”_

_“Of course.” Kira smiled at him. “But you’re special, aren’t you?” Julian preened at the compliment, turning her hand over in his, eyes starting to shine with a excited cast._

_“And did my little lark tell you,” he paid no attention to the slight tightening of her grip at that endearment, “just how special I am?”_

_“She said you were going to be our savior,” Kira agreed. “Imagine that... Doctor Bashir... savior of the Bajoran people.” The words were almost mocking in their effervescence but Julian caught none of it._

_“Yes!” Julian’s eyes darted to the closed doors of the wardroom quickly, his voice dropping low. “I brought her back, you know. I showed her…” he trailed off nearly breathless, his body a hum of excitement, both his hands clasping hers. “You see it now, don’t you? You understand now?” She nodded, matching his eagerness like a mirror, almost overly so. “Yes… yes, of course you do, one who sees the miracle, cannot possibly do anything but believe. Oh, but you have no idea… oh you have no idea what I’m going to show you, Kira, my doubtful little darling, everything that the Prophets have shown me.”_

_Julian leaned in then, intimately, breathlessly close to her and for a split second she drew back before stopping herself, a determined focus to his ear, to the elaborate silver earring that cuffed, dangled, glinting in the dim light. She swallowed, smile tight a moment before becoming a small beckoning entreaty of her lips._

_“I can’t wait. Show me everything, Jules.”_

 

_A few days earlier..._

 

     _But Before Kira had approached him, Leeta had come first the day before in anger. As he sat in Quark’s talking with Miles she’d approached angrily, delivering a slap just as he turned to look up at her. The first sound that Julian registered following the slap, was the loud chortle of Miles laughing. That sound had cut through even Leeta’s voice at his ear as he held the side of his face._

_“How could you?!” Julian looked almost blankly ahead to the surface of the table and he knew that he needed to say something. He knew just as she demanded he answer her that his silence was damning, that it did nothing to exacerbate his guilt- turn everyone’s attention to them further. And yet in spite of that, for all of Leeta’s accusations, her castigations cast like stones to the side of his face following that strike, he heard nothing but that mocking chortle. It didn’t seem that it should be so loud; there was nothing to indicate that anyone else even noticed him. Miles’ body language- that subtle turn of his face, that smirk, that soft mutter of “thought you didn’t make any promises,”- shouldn’t drown out everything else but in that moment it did._

_It reminded him suddenly, vividly, of being back in school sitting behind that darkened gymnasium with the growing number that followed him. They all believed in him; he’d created miracles for them, carefully cultivating that devotion until they would all do absolutely anything for him. And they had. They stole for him, lied for him, delivered to him everything he asked of them. They’d met there that night to listen to him speak- to talk of his grand plans for the school, offering nothing but their undying support for his vision. Except for that most vocal Vulcan that night who’d confronted them there, cutting down everything that Julian had fervently declared until there was only one thing left that he could possibly do.  He didn’t want to do it. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone but they didn’t understand that he had to_ _show_ _them why they needed to follow him. Bad things happened to those who didn’t listen to him and no matter how much it pained him, Julian didn’t have a choice. He didn’t_ _want_ _to do it now. But now as then he couldn’t risk losing that control. And now he could do so many more things, be far more subtle, careful than he’d been before. Still, even knowing that, Julian hesitated._

_His face stung hot, his hand still held to where she hit him hard. It didn’t soothe, it only seemed to make it hotter. Julian’s entire face was burning hot. He felt flush. He felt too hot and he could see the duck of Mile’s head as Leeta screamed his name because he wasn’t answering her properly. ‘Please don’t make me do this.’ He didn’t dare look up. He was certain they all had to be watching him. He was certain that they were watching that scene as her voice grew loud enough to be painful to his enhanced senses._

_“Please,” he whispered, likely too quietly, as he cleared his throat. Julian looked past Miles to those heads turning to him one by one feeling that absolute panic settle in. ‘No. Not here. You absolutely_ _cannot_ _do this to me here, not now, not when everything is so close.’ Julian turned slightly, reached out a hand with another soft desperate whisper as she accused him of that infidelity again, telling him that she wasn’t stupid and that Kira had kindly told her everything. She told him how she’d defended him until she was faced with that undeniable proof of him and Elizabeth in the infirmary. How she saw his back, saw the two of them- ‘Saw me- No! No you didn’t see, you didn’t see anything because Eddington assured me that it was taken care of! Stop talking, they cannot_ _hear_ _that!’_

     _His head snapped to her as she stepped back with another angry wave of her finger. Even through that anger he could still see her measured control. And for just a moment, he saw superimposed over that red face, that pale, calm countenance telling him in no uncertain terms that he was a fraud, that he was playing them all for fools and that there was no logical reason for any of them to-_

_“no logical reason for-“ ‘Stop it!’ Julian felt that snap in his head. She didn’t call Jules as she called him a liar deceiving them, and yet he could feel that impulse so strongly that he was unable to control it. It wasn’t Jules that brought the view of the biomachines to the forefront of his attention. It was he, Julian, who read her vitals, who scanned her, who located every single cell that he would need to make use of. It wouldn’t hurt. He was sure that it couldn’t hurt. He just needed her to be_ _quiet_ _. He just needed her to stop talking and he looked at her anxiously, entreating, practically begging her with another, “Please, Leeta,” that went completely unheeded. ‘For God’s sake why won’t you listen to me?! Don’t you understand that I just need you to be_ _quiet_ _?!’_

     _So Julian squeezed. He let the machines carefully circle and surround her lungs. Her body was full of them after all. From that night that he brought her back from the brink of death, she was the first he’d allowed to receive them. She didn’t know what was going on as she lay in the infirmary, pale, sweating, near death, but he’d gotten her then. He couldn’t sense them, couldn’t be sure it was even successful until Elizabeth had finalized the dataport, but once it was online it came to him brilliantly, right alongside Elizabeth’s fainter spectrum. Hers was radiant, and Julian could sense it now, thrumming in her allowing him to feel every intimate inside piece of her body. And that was when he squeezed, slowly, carefully, not letting her breath back in again. He made sure that the biomachines webbed a careful impenetrable cocoon not allowing her to draw that breath no matter how hard she may try and force it. He hated it. But surely now she had to understand…  He could see the moment her eyes locked to his terrified that she understood. ‘But does she believe it to be you, or the Prophets, Julian? No, she believed. For everything that she’d yelled, he still had her. Just like your classmates, right Julian? Even when they forced you to stand there and deny that you were a God, there were still some of them who wouldn’t believe it, who couldn’t believe that they’d been deceived.’_

_It horrified him. It made him sick to his stomach as he kept the air from her lungs and watched her drop to her knees clutching her throat. Julian stood quickly, a hand over his mouth almost afraid to speak her name as those mindless biomachines responded to him silent command. He wanted to let her go. He was afraid to let go. So he stood there, watching her with that anguish clear on her face. He watched her struggling to breathe reaching out to him. ‘_ _He_ _would know what to do. He’d have this entire situation under control. He’d have them right under his spell, he’d have them all enraptured. He’d hold her up as an example right now and make some grand speech about the will of the Prophets or some nonsense, and here you are your knees knocking together. It’s pathetic. You can see that, you can see why you created him. You should have stopped the game, you should’ve known that you’re never going to be able to live up to your potential.’ Julian dropped that hand feeling those eyes on him. He saw them looking at him expectantly, as he stared back equally lost._

     _“I…” he swallowed again, feeling bile rising in the back of his throat. He could hear the murmurs- his hearing picked up every whisper speaking the name of the Prophets, speaking of the wrath of the First Disciple and he wanted to scream at all of them that it wasn’t him. He wasn’t there to hurt anyone, he was there to help if they would only_ _see_ _it. ‘Is this what you meant, Garak? When you spoke so disdainfully of the superstitious lot of Bajorans who just couldn’t be made to see reason. I thought you were having me on, I thought you were exaggerating or just being provocative for effect but they cannot possibly believe that-‘ He saw one of the Dabo girls fall to her knees and a few more of the Bajorans did as well amidst mutters from the other patrons and Julian knew that it had to stop. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t reveal everything yet, it would still be another week or two before he was ready and-_

     _“…elp… …me...” Almost too low for any to hear but enough heard around her, another murmur starting and so help him if he wasn’t’ careful security would come rushing in any moment. Julian watched almost helpless himself as Leeta’s fingers clutched inward, clawed, like she was about to tear her own skin off to get her breath back._

_“You know I… you… you shouldn’t have…” His own voice died and he nearly ran clear out of there to throw himself into a corner and never come out again. One of the other Dabo girls, Mardah, that was her name, Jake’s friend, came forward a hand on his arm, that look of anxious devotion he hadn’t seen in over a decade meeting him full force._

_“Julian… Julian you can help her, right? You know she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t have meant it, the Prophets understand. The Prophets forgive her, don’t they? Please, Julian, Please make it stop.” The tense rush of excitement that he felt at that face terrified him. It was so achingly familiar. It was such a sweet bitter poison that he almost begged her to say it again._

_‘That’s right Julian, you can save her. You’re going to be a doctor, right. You’re better than them even now. You helped Khara when no one else could. You can make her better. You can make them all better.’_

_“Julian!” This time it was Miles’ voice harsh, barking, snapping him back to attention. Julian knelt down quickly, carefully, searching her face for that look of accusation, that look of betrayal. He saw fear, he saw that look of fear in the face of death and he saw superimposed that first child that he’d saved. She was a young girl who looked at him like he was magic as the sixteen year old Julian injected her with the cure that he knew would save her from the brink of death. Yes, that’s what he was here for of course. To save, to heal, to do what no one else could. Julian was the only one who could read that accelerated pulse through the machines, that constant feedback of data, who could react, respond. But she didn’t know; she couldn’t know the cause. Only Elizabeth knew that she wasn’t here. No, Leeta believed- she believed in him. He felt her shake as he carefully picked her up and placed a soothing kiss to her forehead._

_“Of course… Of course I can save you,” he promised in a rush, still not releasing that hold, waiting until her heart beat slowed and he could feel her slip to unconsciousness. “Of course I’ve got you.” ‘Yes, you’re the doctor, Julian. That’s you, the one that everyone loves, the one they all look to when there aren’t any other answers. They love you. As long as you win, as long as you save, as long as you keep up the miracles.’_

_Julian released the machines in an instant with an improvised touch of his hand to her chest. He watched the hush from the crowd as she drew that first gasping, slumbering breath. It was easy to ignore Miles’ glare when the world watched him and loved him. When he watched a few kneel down, even more salute in thanks. He could even see some of the other patrons look at him uncertainly, confused as he straightened up, eyes shining._

_“Thank you… thank you all for your faith,” he rushed out looking at them all smiling, feeling elated, exultant. “She’ll be alright now. I just need to make sure. But she’s fine. Everyone I… I couldn’t do it without your support but if you’ll please.. excuse me…” He nearly skipped, feeling that euphoric hysteria strangely intrude to the back of his throat as they parted a way for him.  Julian beamed. He was certain that he glowed. He didn’t allow himself to strain, or show any of that too human weakness that he normally did, feeding that ego, feeding that desire to prove himself worthy._

_Julian practically flew to the Infirmary, leaving them in awe, surely knowing that this was the price from above for daring to question him. ‘For questioning you, Julian? No, You’re starting to sound like him. You’re starting to lose control of yourself. You know that’s not what it’s about. It’s about showing them that they can believe in you, that they don’t need to second guess you just because you know what you’re doing. This was just… this had to be done. He shook his head as he laid her on the table to be sure of her vital signs. But it’s okay even if there’s damage, That can be repaired after all, remember. You can fix it now. It won’t be like it was before. It can’t get out of your hands the way that the bacterial cultures did. You’re not dealing with fickle eukaryotes, you’re dealing with nanomachines that are a slave to their programming. You’re in complete control this time. You’ve worked hard, you’ve improved,_ _you don’t make mistakes anymore_ _.’ Still, he was relieved when he could see through the scans, in addition to his own internal sweeps that she was merely unconscious and could be brought back any moment. Julian carefully looked around. He didn’t see Nurse Tagana and he’d made sure to ask for privacy from Nurse Hortak. They were alright. They were with him anyway. He wasn’t sure about Jabara, but she’d said nothing to him, and he was sure to be careful around her._

     _Julian ran a trembling hand down the side of Leeta’s sleeping face breathing out slowly._

_“You really scared me, you know that. You have no idea… you don’t know… you don’t know what you almost did, what you almost ruined. Of course I know it wasn’t your fault of course. You’ve been wonderful, you’ve been better than I could ask for. Even as poorly as I’ve treated you throughout this whole mess you’ve been so kind to me. You’ve helped me more than you know. No, I know it wasn’t your fault. I can only imagine what major Kira was saying. But I don’t blame her. They say we’re shaped by our experience and with what she’s been through it’s to be expected… that suspicion, that inability to trust. But she’s such a strong person you know, such a natural leader, it’s a shame that I can’t reach her the way I have you. But that might be for the best._

     _“You don’t know what happened when things got out of control before. When too many people stopped listening to me, stopped following me, and started listening to some… some damn Vulcan, some_ _machine_ _who couldn’t_ _understand_ _what I was trying to do. And none of them understood that I worked hard. I worked._ _Hard_ _. So that they would listen, believe in me. They didn’t understand all those things I didn’t want to do… that I didn’t_ _want_ _to hurt them… Do you have any idea what it’s like to look at the world, to look at the universe and see nothing but suffering? To see everything that you know you have the power to fix if everyone would just_ _listen_ _. I’ve seen it end so many times, in so many horrific ways in my dreams. That’s what no one else sees. They don’t see that what I do is for the best.” He laughed nervously. “_ _I’m_ _the best. That’s what I’m here for and if I’m not… then…” Julian stopped and dropped his hand._

_“I can’t lose this.” He frowned, breathing in deeply, the last great gospel passing through his head, a million symphonies, the hum of every linked machine in his head as he let himself feel it. “That right. I’m the machine, the prophet, the one that was created to be better… to change the world.” And he could feel a memory licking at him, another piece of that puzzle dreamscape peering out at him from the depths as he grabbed onto it, bringing it to the surface.  “Yes… yes, I don’t know how I’d forgotten that.” He saw it perfectly, vividly, and he knew as he breathed that he could command her just as he could Garak. God he_ _had_ _been busy. It almost frightened him what else might surface, what else he might find that he’d done in the absence of his own awareness. “But will it work on the unconscious mind? Yes, yes, it will work and likely better, I think.” He licked his lips, stepping back then forward again, hands back around his neck kneading, pressing into that dataport nearly giving him vertigo. He blinked it away, feeling his forehead and neck damp with sweat as he looked at her still laying there in that deep sleep. “I don’t want to do this. You understand, God I hope you understand that I don’t enjoy this… I… I’ve never enjoyed this,_ _he_ _might, that sick twisted…” Julian stopped, head bowed, a strangled sound wrenched from his throat._

_“I don’t… God why couldn’t you just_ _understand_ _. You’re not a stupid woman why can’t you see that I just need to be left alone to_ _work_ _?! That I need to do what I was created for?! It’s the same as your damn bloody Prophets and if this body, if this body has desires and needs and wants why can’t you just let me have it?! Why can’t any of you just let me alone already?!” He jerked his head up violently, watching her stir, seeing a furrow in your brow, likely in reaction to that raised voice and he looked carefully around before dropping his voice again. “Sometimes… sometimes I just have these urges… just… just here and there and I’m not… I’m not a monster, I’m not the Lethean, I’m not some Cardassian oppressor wanting to enslave the whole bloody Bajoran people I just…” He hit his hand on the table where she lay. “I don’t have time… I don’t have time for this. There’s just not enough time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I…”_

_Julian lowered his voice even quieter, carefully, making sure that nothing so far has seemed like anything more than an examination. ‘Ah, but they’ll hear you anyway if Eddington fails. I have no idea how Kira saw any of that. I know the cameras were secured. I know if she’d heard those words then… God I don’t know anything anymore. I need to stop this. I need Kira. I need her on my side and not against me And I need you obedient, unquestioning I’m sorry. I can’t afford any more mistakes and I’ll need you to obey me from here on out no matter what I tell you without hesitation. You’ve no idea how sorry I am but....’_

_“ I am the key.” He watched her intently, waiting, until he saw her lips move. He almost half expected her to sit straight up like some phantasm from an old horror story, but in fact the return was passed from her lips so whisper soft, he was sure that only he could hear it._

“I am the lock.”

 

            Jules looks out over the gathered crowd seated front of him, the emergency lights only giving the faintest illumination making him feel as if he’s staring out at a sea of stars in the galaxy. The cargo bay is dark, but he’s coordinated the security rounds, and he knows that he’s covered for now. Eddington will have seen to it; just as he had seen to confirming that Jules was back at the agreed upon time. Jules takes another step before stopping, hands clasped in front of him head bowed in silence, feeling them watching him. He times it, allowing the silence to stretch on, feeling the twitch at the corner of his mouth as the calendar counts down to the final date approaching. Elizabeth had given him word that it will only be a matter of days before the ships will arrive.  _We’re so close now, Jules. Just a little while longer and there you’ll be, God of the new world, destined to reign over the universe itself. The game won, the prize claimed, and all without anything to hold you back. And it all starts here. This covenant, this test of your power is where the end game begins._

            He squares his shoulders feeling a rush of elation as he raises his head, the rustle of loose clothing comfortable yet still unfamiliar against his skin. He reminds himself that he’ll have to get used to it for now.  _Baby steps, Jules. One thing at a time. Start small, a drawn in hem here, a little less give, a few dots around the eyes, the mouth, and you’ll be your old self again in every way that matters. The more they can accept, the further you can push them, and soon enough the name “Julian” will be expunged from history itself never again to darken what you’ve created. You need to be patient now. You learned your lesson, buried away in the darkness all these years that you cannot rush, cannot push past what they can handle. That was your mistake then, but it won’t be now_. Jules looks at Leeta for reassurance; she stares at him so rapt, so enamored, it’s enough to nearly make him hard right there. He wants her. He wants that kneeling supplication, that fanatical devotion. Jules smiles, directing that benevolent radiance only towards her. Watching that smile widen almost manically.  _Yes, you’re nice and obedient now, aren’t you? I thought that I’d need to use those little commands sooner but you’ve exceeded my expectations so beautifully. It’s a pity I had to use them at all but I’m not going to make the same mistakes that I did before._

He can still feel the sting of that slap infuriating him, but it was nothing but a brief moment of defiance neatly dealt with.  _That was all you, Kira._  Julian’s eyes glance to Major Kira kneeling quietly by Leeta’s side. She seems to be taking pains not to look at him directly and that pleases him.  _You see what happens when you cross me? Now who stands, and who kneels before me? Yes, you tried to fill her head with that disloyalty, with those blasphemous thoughts, but you underestimated me, Kira, just as I had you._   _I didn’t realize that you were watching me. I thought I only had to worry about Odo but no. There you were as well, weren’t you? But you had no idea the power that I hold over her. I have all the power that I need to hold those that follow me in line. I have more control over her than you'd ever know. Did you really think I was foolish enough to rely solely on the mind? On the fickle heart? I’m not a foolish child any more. I know better than that._ Jules smiles down at her, with a nod, so gracious, so kind.  _Yes, you and I had such a lovely little chat didn’t we? You didn’t realize that I had the Prophets on my side. You didn’t see my vision but now that you’ve spoken to Leeta, now that you really_ _listened_ _to that rapturous vision of our world, you realized just how pathetically wrong you were._

_Yes, my darling Kira,_ _I’m_ _the only fucking God in the Universe now._ _I’m_ _the one blessed by the Prophets. And you’ll see that soon enough. I’m back in the world, and there’s nothing that will stop me, not Garak, not Odo, and certainly not you._ Jules almost expects an interruption to that triumphant moment- some shout from Kira, some finger pointing damnation cast to his plan but there’s nothing.  _Of course there’s nothing. You have her now. You have her apologies, you have her spilling out all of those secrets of how afraid she was to believe in you. You had her eating out of your hand, ready and willing to do anything you please. And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. You’re not that same foolish boy and she isn’t some tactless Vulcan interloper. She’s yours. And after tonight, you can be certain of it_. And true enough, Kira is silent when he steps forward again. Jules pulls the best damn Julian Bashir that he can for the lot of them gathered there tonight. He’s played that part enough now that it’s almost a seamless transition.

Jules redirects that smile to the crowd, humble, head ducked and he remembers so vividly his classmates watching him years ago with that same aura of reverence. He remembers how he would speak to them in that darkened gym. They would hear him, they would obey him,  _beg_  him to tell them all the secrets of the universe that he knew. He remembers how they would hang on his every word, how they were so in awe of his gifts, of his seeming power over life and death that he could have any one of them do whatever he asked.  _And now as then, Jules, let’s show them what we’ve got. Are you watching now, Garak? Are you sitting there huddled in that darkened security office with Odo looking at me?_ Jules knows that he’s not, of course. He knows that it’s Eddington’s turn at the bat as Captain Sisko would say, and Eddington assured him that it’s under control. The footage Leeta had seen was from the switch of shifts- past the time that Eddington had warned him about and he’d cursed his carelessness for allowing him to almost compromise the both of them when he’d given in to that impulse to take her a second time bent over the console. He chambers that memory for later, however, instead letting himself savor this moment so close to his final hour of triumph.

            “Living is a truly frightening thing,” he begins softly, the echo of his voice powerful in the quiet of the night. “Of course, it’s simple to wake up, to breathe, to head to the replimat for a raktajino… at least I know  _I_  don’t feel awake til then.” Another smile, a soft titter of laughter brushes by like a breeze. Jules lets it cover him, lets that tone ease the room into a warm comfort. He is certain that a lot of them are afraid now of incurring the wrath of the Prophets should they cross him. The story of the incident in Quark’s spread like wildfire, and he even sees one or two new faces in the crowd that he faces.  _You have no idea how right you are to fear me_.  _And soon, it won’t just be Liz and Leeta, but the lot of you as well that will be completely at the mercy of my benevolence. Ah. But tonight my devoted followers, tonight I only want your love, your worship, your complete faith in me._ “We complete these actions without thought, without consciousness for our condition. And of course, we  _need_  these rituals that make our lives seem so comfortable, so ordinary.” He picks up his voice, knowing the exact decibel level that he can reach, keeping it to about half so far.

            “But to be alive, to exist in the world is also to fear death. It is to fear dying.” He takes a deep breath knowing that the death of Vedek Bariel still lingers for so many of them, that the loss of Kai Opaca is still so deep that there’s an almost palpable tremor in the room. Jules picks an insignificant point of the wall to stare at as he calls on that emotion, every memory as the doctor, as Julian, making that lump in his throat almost believable to even himself. “As a doctor I knew that better than anyone. There were so many after all, that I couldn’t save.” He makes sure to fidget uncomfortably at that for a moment, fingers tracing around his collar, a careful count until he sees the somber turn. Jules waits just another count of five, seeing the reflective expressions looking down towards the floor and not at him. “As long as we live we are afraid to die...” He notices as Kira tenses, hands on her knees shaking just a bit, but even then she says nothing.  _Check and mate my hateful little harpy._ Jules internalizes the amused snort as he drops his voice, knowing that there will be a strain to hear. But he also knows at the same time that the effect will be that hallowed silence even to silent breaths. “ _I_  am afraid to die,” Jules confesses. He takes a few more calculated steps, showing his back, letting those words sink in. He listens carefully, a few murmurs of disbelief reaching his ears. Jules revels in them.

            “But the Prophets have shown me in their mercy and wisdom that I need  _not_  fear, that I should  _not_  be afraid. They have shown me that all I need to do is  _listen_. All I need to do is open my mind, to let my spirit be surrounded by their light, by their guidance, and to see every bounty, every gift that they are waiting to bestow upon me. But it wasn’t easy.” Jules draws a breath, fist tight to his heart as he affects that introspection to the ground, to some large container closest to the back of the crowd. “I didn’t want to listen, you know. Like the Emissary, I was reluctant. I was confused. What could this strange presence, these… “wormhole aliens” want with me? But they didn’t stop. The Prophets did not allow my skepticism, my disbelief, my pride to keep me from them! And what they have shown me brothers and sisters, is a blessing! A boon, a future far greater than anything I could have conceived on my own as just a mere mortal man!” Jules takes another pause, a swallow, a shake to his body, a tremor of excitement, as he basks in that attention. He soaks in those whispers of his status as the First Disciple, that reverent awe that trembles through all of them.  _You really missed a golden opportunity Captain, but where you_ _are_ _nothing but a mortal man I…_ _I_ _am wise enough, developed enough to seize it._  

    “I, like the Emissary have given myself to them in body, spirit, every part of my being and they have in turn shown me, as they did him, an incredible vision! But  _my_  part is not with the Federation, nor is ours my brothers and sisters. Ours is for such a glorious purpose as has never before been witnessed and I, like you, give thanks to the Emissary and The Prophets that we were the ones chosen!” Jules has his voices raised, that flash of memory once more overlaid with the present  _Yes, here we come, Jules, full circle, only now you have everything that you need._  He licks his lips, arms raised, walking through the kneeling crowd as nearly making him bite his lip with the ecstasy of it all. “It has been said that one day all things, all creatures great and small will die! Empires fall, monuments, cities crumble to dust, but I am here to tell you today that shall not be our fate! Our destiny is to  _live_! Not just to live, but to serve the will of the Prophets!” 

    Jules allows that to resonate, the young, the idealistic, those who follow have read the message already as he passed it along, the rods degrading from a few uses, but the words spread, the wonder, the excitement that they who had grown up in the shadow of the Cardassian Occupation were destined to such greatness in the galaxy.  _You once told me, Father, that one needs to know the crowd to which they speak to study, to understand, to know what it is that they desire and that’s what you need to speak to. I’ve always believed you to be the greatest fraud in the Universe but perhaps your capabilities were merely too limited for your vision. But I have a vision, Father, and thanks to your ego, your eternal disappointment, your_ _disgust_ _with your stupid and unworthy son, I’m about to be far greater than you could ever imagine. You wanted me brilliant, you wanted me better well here I am, the bloody best, brightest, and I’m going to show you as I failed to do then, everything that I’m capable of._

    Jules walks back to the front slow, letting that seething resentment slip back into the shadows, passing by Kira with a subtle look down. He catches her eyes right in that moment, her brow crease faintly as she looks at him searching, fast enough that he almost thinks he imagines it. But then she turns way, eyes down once more and he takes another step forward. Jules swears that her lips moved, but he heard no sound even with his hearing. He blinks, considering his next words, but then he  _does_  hear it spoken.  _No, no, you didn’t! There’s not way that you could have-_  But it doesn’t matter, that fury rushed away like the tide. That moment he hears it, that name,  _“Julian”,_  carried past him like a breath of space flitting through the massive cargo containers around them. He blinks, the room fading in and out for a moment and it comes to him in a rush, slamming into his now present self the memories, the actions melding back to homeostasis, and with two more steps forward his mind works hyper fast to process, to digest.  _She was testing you. She knows! It has to be a trap!_  But he knows that he needs to finish.

    Julian, now Julian stops, his back to the crowd where they cannot see the slow blink or the nervous breath that he draws as he starts speaking anew. He tugs at his collar anxiously.  _It doesn’t matter what she knows. If this is part of a plan, part of a grater plan then now you know. You can fix this. You can’t fail now. Do it, Julian, God you can do this!_

“You know... they tell us... they tell us to embrace our impairments. They tell us that we were made this way... that this is as far as we can go. They told me that once... a boy who couldn’t tell a dog from a cat... who couldn’t swim... who couldn’t... who couldn’t do a lot of things. Some would say he wasn’t meant to do a lot of things. They say... that is we have a saying, an old saying and they say that ignorance is bliss. That those who never know, who don’t know enough to suffer, to agonize, to contemplate all those things that keep us awake at night, are the ones who are truly blessed...”  _I was happy once... but I was a fool... and a fool... a mistake... cannot possibly happy... does not_ _deserve_ _to be happy. “_ But who can they save?” he almost whispers, looking up at the high ceiling drawing a shaky breath as he remembers, not just those who’d once followed him, but the disaster that followed, that led to his expulsion, that nearly meant the end of his entire life.

    “I couldn’t save anyone,” Julian says as he turns around quickly. Kira is looking at him once more, only this time without that searching look but with slightly widened eyes seeing his face. _Dear God you know... But why? Why would Garak tell you what I?... No, no, he couldn’t_ _possibly_ _have told you everything. Not Garak, not the liar, not the sphinx himself. He’d have told half a dozen riddles, half truths mired in theatric but then what are you looking for? What... what do you think I am, Kira? Did he tell you that I’m some sort of monster? Did he tell you I was sick? Mad? Why are you looking at me like that?!_ But whatever that expression was that he thought he’d seen on her face, that flicker of surprise, followed by some sympathy blurring to anger is gone. She looks at the floor again and he swallows hard, continuing.

    “Back then I couldn’t save anyone... not even myself. But that’s changed.” Julian looks at every one of them now seeing they’re hopeful, so eager to believe whatever he tells them. He can’t afford to worry about Kira now. He swallows down bile in the back of his throat knowing that for just these few little lies there is a much greater purpose to be had. “Because now I’m better. Now I understand my purpose, my potential.”  _My purpose is to be the best. My purpose is to rise above, to conquer, to triumph over death, over disease, over humanity itself. And if i can’t do that then there’s no reason for any of this. Then there’s no reason for my existence at all. None of you will ever understand that. It’s like Garak says of simple Bajorans, the intricacies of this miserable wretched existence that such provincial people are blessed to never have to face... If you’re going to cling to the damn wormhole aliens as Gods, the ones who didn’t do a damn thing to save you the suffering of the Occupation while you bled and died for them, then you might as well follow me._ “And with you behind me, I’ll save everyone.”

Julian searches his splintered memory, knowing when he does that Leeta will rise on his signal, knowing that she will come to him, that she will show them all. He looks at her, that connection between that shared pool of thought sparking that key, that command that Jules had set, and he smiles, just that certain smile for her that Jules had so perfected. It almost makes his jaw hurt but he holds it fast as she rises, and he reaches a hand out to her.

“You saved  _me_ ,” she says with a radiant smile that almost breaks him.  _I didn’t save you, you poor wretched woman, I almost_ _killed_ _you. You have no idea how close I came... how terrified I was that it wouldn’t work._ “The nurses saw me die on that table.”  _Because I killed you. Because once again that carefully cultivated bacteria didn’t react the way it was supposed to, because I made a mistake when considering Bajoran immunology and where I was merely ill you were-_

“But you brought me back.” He takes her hand, knowing that he’s well past the point of turning back, squeezing tightly- almost too tightly- but she bears it without so much as a flinch. It terrifies him to think that he could squeeze it until it broke and she might never make a sound because of the hold he’s forced upon her.  _Because I love you. That’s what I’m supposed to say. Because I love all of you, because I’ve been blessed, because I’ve been shown because I’m going to..._ Julian eases the grip, eyes flickering away from her almost afraid to look at Kira.  _Why are you here still going along with this farce, Major? You don’t belong here. You don’t belong on your knees drinking this poison like it’s gospel. No, not just Kira, but Leeta, but all of them. None of them deserve this._ Julian looks at the ground.  _Deserve what, Julian? You’re only fixing what’s broken. You’re only finishing what’s imperfect. And with this you’ll be able to give them Phoenix and they’ll be able to stand as much of it as they want as long as they obey you._

    “That’s because I...” He hesitates as he releases his grip, taking the small dagger from his pocket, pressing the blade to his palm. He can’t say it.  _I don’t love you. I’m going to destroy you._ “I’m going to save everyone.” He repeats, praying that he can rally that fervor within himself.  _And with that, we can bear future generations with those abilities, even with the nanites assimilated from birth, a new race who will control the future of the entire universe._  “I’m going to save the world, the quadrant, the universe... I’m going to save  _everyone_!” Julian almost believes it as he comes close to breaking that mental limit he set on his volume. The blade bites into his hand and the thick, dark blood begins to pool. “If you will join me... Then it shall not be for us to wait on heaven, for paradise, but to bring the kingdom of the Prophets  _here_.” He holds out the hand, and then the blade, hilt first, looking at all of them.  _And it all starts with just this one pithy sacrifice._ “

    Who here will be the first to join me?” Julian doesn’t see Kira look down and say a brief prayer, a flicker of doubt to the floor in front of her before she stands, going to him with a grim determination.  _No, no, you cannot possibly want this knowing what it means for you._ But her eyes meet his with a perfect enraptured smile, and he wonders if she doesn’t in fact believe after all.  _No. No, she’ll never actually-_

    “I will.” 

 

_“Elim Garak needs to die.”_  Those were the words that he had spoken to his two most fervent followers: to Leeta and Elizabeth as he prepared to depart. They haunt him as walks through the all but deserted Promenade anxiously fingering the collar of his uniform.  _“No matter what I may say to you later. No matter what I threaten, beg, plead...”_  What frightens him the most is knowing they’ll obey. With one inoculation, one injection, he’d delivered that drug to reinforce the commands to them both. As desperately as he wanted to believe, as much as he wanted to trust them, he knew that he couldn’t take that risk. No, he didn’t. But Jules did. Jules was sure to dose them with that serum, play those lovely tunes as they made love. He knew as those bitter memories came to him, when those children following him turned one after another that he couldn’t rely on devotion alone to persuade anyone to commit such an unthinkable act.  _An act you should have done yourself. This isn’t a game, Julian. This is the fate of the Universe and you can’t take the chance that one damn spy that you can’t get out of your head will ruin it. You’re a coward. You’re too weak._

    And tonight, he also cannot sleep. Julian only has a few hours before he needs to board the Defiant. His pleas to remain on station falling on deaf ears and he begins to suspect that somehow Captain Sisko must know...  _But that’s not possible. The man isn’t stupid, of course, but surely had Odo told him everything... if he knew what they must suspect there’s no way that they would ever..._  He pauses, that thought trailing off coldly.  _Or perhaps that’s why he’s insistent that you come along. He doesn’t trust you here alone, not with most of the senior staff gone. Remember the last time, remember the Legate. They were all suspicious even when you put all your ducks in a row... when it was clear that the chaos stemmed from Garak and not you... They didn’t believe you. You know they didn’t. But if Captain Sisko knows then why hasn’t this progressed any farther?_

Julian takes a few more thoughtful steps as he approaches the large window out into space.  _Assume the worst case scenario, Julian. Assume then that all of them know... those who aren’t part of your inner circle. Or perhaps even them. It may be that you can’t trust anyone that you don’t know for a fact is under your control._ He laughs softly, bitterly, hands pressed to the cool clear surface. 

“And who does that leave, Julian? Leeta and Elizabeth. And it’s not even you who have their loyalty but  _him_.” Him Jules; The dark stooped over power mad Hyde to his Jekyll.  _Except that he is not the twisted and gnarled sadistic troglodyte but the charismatic, brilliant, unbound augment to whom everyone gravitates, who they all obey with or without the damn serum._ Julian finds his nails scraping the surface with a faint screech that makes his ears hurt, hand balling to a fist with a small stunted bang. 

     _But you know it isn’t that simple Julian. If it were that simple... if you were the pure and noble good doctor that you pretend this would all be over. You’d have already turned yourself in, repented, begged a thousand pardons, mercies, begged them to do whatever it took to pull him out of you._ But it isn’t over. Julian drops his hand staring hard into the surface as if it might mirror his reflection but it doesn’t. He sees nothing but the outer rings of Deep Space Nine and endless space beyond as the cold truth washes over him. If two children are fighting over a toy, it’s best to take it away from both of them. It’s best to get rid of the object that’s causing all the conflict in the world.  _Yes, imagine an end to all wars, chaos, pain, suffering with the sacrifice of just one small life._ No, it wasn’t Jules who called for Garak to die. That part of him could never bear to part with something he believed intractably that he ought to have. It was Julian. Once again, that monster was all him.

“You challenge me. You  _fascinate_  me.” Julian’s voice is barely above a whisper as he speaks to the silence. “You’ve no idea how awful a thing that is.”

    “I’ve certainly heard much worse, my dear.” That voice, sudden, out of that stillness, nearly makes him visibly jump. He doesn’t know how it was that his enhanced senses failed to perceive Garak standing there behind him, but Julian turns to the right and finds that Garak is there, looking not at him but out at those same boundless stars. Impulsively, Julian considers a warning, a desperate pitiable clutch of Garak’s shoulders begging him take care; that as surely as he breathes, he will not live to see Julian’s return. He fidgets with the cuff of his uniform but says nothing. The banal question of how long Garak has been standing there comes to mind but he lets it fall away. There are so many things that he wants to say rushing through his head so quickly that it’s almost overwhelming. 

    “I’m sure you have,” Julian says with a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.  _Will you really die?_  he wonders feeling the warmth of Garak’s arm almost parallel to his own.  _Is this really the last time that I’ll see you?_ It’s a sobering thought, and Julian feels an anxiety that’s almost palpable. He almost thinks he hears a scream inside his head not to dare touch Garak. He shoves it back down into the darkness.  _And suppose they succeed. Then what? Then this will all have been for nothing, won’t it? No... then this will be_ _over_ _. He’ll be out of your head and that’s what you need to be able to pull this back. You’re still so damn desperate for him to accept you, to acknowledge you, to just_ _look_ _at you. You have a greater destiny, you have a purpose beyond this game that you need to fulfill._ Julian doesn’t dare turn to look at Garak, instead fixated even harder on the stars outside. He shouldn’t be here. He should leave. He’s going to leave now. But Julian stays where he stands, already calculating how much time they’ll have alone.

    “You seem troubled,” Garak offers and Julian’s head whirls comically to the side, hair whipping with that motion. He pushes it back and away from his face nearly cursing, knowing that he needs to be careful not to expose the dataport where anyone else might see. Julian rearranges himself with a duck of his head. He doesn’t know if Garak is mocking him or if the question is asked in earnest as he meets those eyes; beautiful blue eyes that seem to shift like two seas in which he could drown. Julian swallows, eyes dartng to every point of Garak’s face, over ridges, over smooth gray skin, mapping in his mind’s eye once more a memory to call forth for an eternity should he need it. Julian opens his mouth, seeing how warm, how concerned that look appears.  _God help me I don’t want you to die._ But Julian knows that  whatever the mask holds it is nothing but a mask that looks at him, or rather through him as if he were searching for the one he really wants. Some irrational part of him almost thinks that he’d give it all up now just to be able to stare like this, openly, unashamed, for the rest of his life.  _And that’s exactly why you have to die._

    Julian, maudlin, looks past him as far as he can see to reassure himself that they are alone. He allows himself to hear, and there is nothing but the whir of the station faint, far more faint than the two of them breathing softly. 

“What would you have me say if this were the last time I were seeing you, Garak?” Julian asks suddenly, almost stupidly but nonetheless nearly holding his breath for the answer. He watches that mask Garak wears cracking to a shrewd analysis faster than he’s sure most humans could perceive. His new face is amusement, burnished like a brilliant iron shield.

“Well, my dear, I’d heard tell that in times of war but more often not a man being shipped off as cannon fodder but also more often not, would deliver a similar line to a lovely lady in the hopes of some spectacular merciful coitus. But I’d never imagined you to stoop to such a ruse. It’s really beneath your dignity, Julian.” A silent laugh, amusement, some secret that he thinks only he knows, and Julian blinks at him. He knows that it’s irrational to expect Garak to be privy to the sanctity of these last few precious moments for them, but he still feels disappointed that Garak didn’t meet that query more dramatically.

    He barely hides a frown.

“I’m being serious.”

“Yes, I can definitely tell,” Garak agrees with a turn towards the outside. “But if I may let you in on a little... trade secret, I’ve found it a far more pleasurable experience to be glib in the face of adversity than to be stoic when the situation calls for levity.”

“Why not simply express the appropriate emotion for the situation?” Julian asks irritated that this isn’t going how he envisioned it.

“What an absolutely disgusting thing to suggest.”

“Why are you  _here_ , Garak?” Julian asks at last, not caring how stupid a question it is, as that illusion of a final beautiful send off deflates.

“I suppose that would depend on whether you’re asking my mother or father. Of course, there are some who might say that Cardassians are not born but hatched by dark design from some demon’s abyss. But you know as well as I, my dear Julian, that Bajorans will believe absolutely anything.” There’s a faint dancing sparkle, a cutting to Garak’s sideways look that has Julian reach out, nearly lose himself in the flow of data that rushes in, from the presence of every processing biomachine that he can feel in those who follow him. 

    He almost loses himself in that stream. He’s not sure if he’s closed his eyes or if it was only his mind that blanked his vision so that he could read every signature that he needed to see.  _And imagine if I could feel you, if I could touch you the same way, Garak. I wonder what your heartbeat might sound like. I wonder how it would feel to have your life pulsing for me to feel the way it does with them._  But of course he cannot. Julian looks down to the small space between them and catches himself before he reaches a hand out. He might as well be on the other side of the galaxy for all the distance between them. Julian considers if there truly are any words, any actions that would break that space, truly pull down that cover and let Julian see him. Surely, there must be  _some_  special entreaty that would break down those walls and give him that satisfaction. He’s wondered that for years; if there was some banter, some open sesame to unvault those secrets.  _Is that something that you’ve shown to_ _him_ _? I don’t know why I can’t seem to see all his memories nor he mine even as surely we’re aware they exist but..._

Julian feels an irrational jealousy that there might be some face of Garak known only when he’s Jules.  _You lack his courage, his mettle, his daring._ Julian impulsively seizes Garak’s hand, his right, Garak’s left, seeing Garak look down at that grasp, hand limp. He doesn’t pull back. In fact he doesn’t say a word, as if waiting for Julian to act. Fearing that some moment might be lost if he hesitates any longer, Julian finds his voice.

“If... in that moment of death you knew with absolute certainty you could reach out a hand... and be saved... and be forever as you are... what would you offer the God of the Underworld in return?” Julian sees that smile snapped to place like the icons in a perfect grid, nothing out of place as Garak decides to squeeze back.

“You are so very like him, Julian, if only you’d let yourself embrace it. You know I could have closed my eyes and thought it was him standing here.” Julian draws his hand back quickly, angrily.

    He takes a step back, looking at the ground.

“Then why don’t you call him here, Garak, we both know you can do it.” Julian holds his hand to his chest massaging it sorely is if that wound were to more than simply his ego. Garak makes a study of that hand speaking quietly.

“Because it is you, Julian, that I came to see off.”

“The Defiant isn’t leaving for another few hours yet.”

“Perhaps I wanted to leave you with my final instructions should I not make it. If you recall there’s still the matter of the false panel on the bulkhead near the replicator...”

“Am I ever going to get a straight answer out of you?”

“If you ask the right question.”

“Then...” Julian looks from the ground up into Garak’s eyes hesitantly. “What would you say, Garak, if I promised you eternity? Immortality?” He still feels as if he isn’t asking the right questions.

“I might wonder why you seem so convinced of my impending demise,” Garak answers pointedly, that mischief never leaving his eyes.

    Julian’s mouth is shut tight, an uneasy flicker of his eyes to the side, out to see still if anyone approaches. But they are still alone.

“Because everything dies,” He says offering his own evasive explanation for a change. “Because just as we breathe, we eventually break.” Garak steps just a touch back into his space, close, warm, a breath that Julian commits to memory fervently. 

“Are you going to break me, Julian?” A flicker of tongue tasting air, tasting his breaths out, Julian’s lungs nearly burning as he almost forgets to breathe. “You know, it just now occurs to me now, that we haven’t discussed the most important part of the game yet.” Garak holds Julian’s eyes, leaning in, another step, a hand on his shoulder. Fingertips trail up his neck, making him shiver, making him tilt his head so that Garak might lean in and whisper softly, darkly. “There’s the small matter of your prize, should you win.”

    “You sound like you’ve already made that decision.”

“Not a decision, but a suggestion rather.”

“I’m listening.” 

“If you win... then you may have me... on my knees, bound, broken, willing.”

“What makes you think... that’s what I want?” Julian’s breaths are tight, strangled as the warmth of Garak’s body bleeds into his.

“The way that you breathe heavier, the hitch in your tone, that flicker of excitement when I...” Garak flicks his tongue just a tap to Julian’s ear that makes a small whimper claw from his throat.  _You’re pathetic, Julian. You give in to him so easily._

“Please... don’t do this to me.”

“I can’t make you do anything, nothing that you don’t want to do.”

“You’ve no idea how badly... how long that I...”

“That you...”

“That I’ve wanted you to...” Julian closes his eyes, Garak moving around his body slowly, serpentine, until he can feel him at his back still speaking whisper soft. Julian is terribly aware of how it might appear were anyone to come by but he stays.

    “Such a curious thing to say my dear when you were so stubbornly insistent that night that you and I-”

“We did!” Julian says 

"Then tell me." The words catch him off guard. Julian swallows reflexively, his mouth suddenly dry. He knows he's heard correctly, but even so, that command makes him pause as a million images rush to the forefront of his mind, a scattered recollection in such counter to his usual easy index that he almost can't quite grasp it.

"You already know-"

"Do I?"

"Stop playing games with me, Garak."

"Are you surrendering then? Do you forfeit? Do you turn and slink back into the darkness, behind that mask, behind all of that weakness, sniveling sanctimonious doctor? Is that what you want, doctor? To stop? To go back, to reverse the sands to some innocent time no, my dear, I'm afraid that we're far too late for that for that but perhaps if you were to-"

    "Your room." Julian interrupts that damning whisper, hand to the cold surface, falling squeaking down, his palm sweaty. "I'm in your room, you know that. You always keep your room so bloody hot I can't... I can't breathe. I feel like I'm suffocating and I almost think you do that on purpose."

"I made you... hot on purpose?"

"The room... the temperature... you know what I'm talking about."

"If you can't take the heat, Julian-"

"I can take any damn thing you give me, any damn twist of your words-"

"Then maybe you shouldn't be playing this game." 

"Stop it, stop..."

"What am I doing?" The whispers rush back and forth between them until it’s enough to fog the glass in front of Julian’s face. It brings back a memory once more of Garak’s room as he struggles to remember what had seemed so vivid when he was alone in his own bed taking himself in hand to a hard, violent completion.

    "Nothing! Everything... I can't..." Julian wipes that condensation away and stares at their faces reflected pale on the surface. The photons are scattered to project that pitiful shade in a partial blur and yet he swears that he can see Garak looking him dead in the eyes, looking right through him.

"I can't think with you right on top of me like this."

"Was I on top of you that night, Julian?" Was he...?  _Yes... no... I don't..._ Julian closes his eyes, inhaling Garak's scent, remembering that closeness, dreaming it behind those shuttered eyes. He recalls, with such vivid recollection, the feeling of that tongue trilling to the shell of his ear that he could almost believe it were happening now. But it’s not. He forces himself to the present, finding it harder to hold himself there. Julian can feel Garak's warm breath but that's where that oral contact ceases to be nothing but a figment of his imagination. 

    “Tell me, Julian.”  _Stop. Don’t let him influence you like this. It’s just more games. You know what you remember. You_ _know_ _what happened. He’s just trying to confuse you, he’s trying to make you question your own memories._ And those memories are rising to the surface as if Garak’s words had triggered them to appear one after the other. Julian can feel it in start with the phantom ghost of arms around him and he lets that scene, that waking dream carry him away. He can feel his body start to heat that cold surface to warm around him and he presses further against it almost feeling feverish. 

“Yes, Of course you were on top of me. Don’t you dare tell me you don’t remember because  _I_  remember your weight. It was on the couch. Ninety five kilograms pressing my back into the cushions. I can feel you grinding against me, I can feel that you want me when I feel that eversion start slow then grow bigger, harder, and then I was on top of you. We rolled over on the floor and I unzipped the uniform just as you pulled my down by the collar and pulled my mouth on yours.” 

    "How?"  _Like this..._ That's what Julian wants to say. He wants to turn and show Garak exactly how it was. He wants to bring Garak to that save fever pitch of need as he was that night when his hands joined Julian’s in tugging at the zipper down, when those hands shoved the cloth down trapping his arms to his body. He needs Garak to feel it too, feel that perspiring hot, sweat between them when his memory blurs again to Garak's stealing his breath with a hand fisted in his hair.

"Like you were stealing my breath,” he says out loud, “Like you were lava incarnate,"  _Like the temperature is supposed to be 98.6 degrees but somehow you were at least 120..._  "It was sloppy, hard with your mouth crushing mine to yours, wet, with your teeth, with you tasting, devouring-"

"You know Cardassians don't kiss like humans, my dear," Garak interrupts sounding amused and Julian goes to turn his head angrily but finds instead that he’s held there beneath the glass like a butterfly, wings spread, pinned pitifully down.  _But you can’t keep me pinned down. I could make you move. It would be_ _nothing_ _to make you move so why can’t I-_

    "No,” Garak’s voice interrupts that thought. “There should be a tender tap of the tongue, some might say a serpentine twining wet, occasionally messy, but far more elegant, far more of an exotic dance than that impertinent mash of one mouth to another my dear. Unless perhaps you're conflating reality for one of your vulgar human fantasies." There's such a faint tease to the tip of his ear that without reaching up to touch it, Julian cannot be sure that he's not dreaming it. “You do have such a beautifully, filthy mind, Julian.” Julian gasps, an intake of breath that almost makes him swallow his tongue and now he is  _certain_  that he can feel Garak's lips, belying that declaration that a Cardassian would never do anything so vulgar.

    "You don't... you don't know what you're..." Julian stops, that sentence trailing off to endless possibilities, each of them darker than the last, and he's horrified to see how easily they turn to those forbidden notions.  _You offer yourself to me, on your knees before me as a prize for winning this game Garak, but you don’t know… You couldn’t possibly know that you’ve already given me that gift once before. You’ve already given me that freedom, that control, that taste of the pleasure that your body could bring me._ Julian breathes in deeply, slowly, feeling as though he might melt into the panel itself.  _You don’t know how your blood tasted on my tongue, how my hands couldn’t stop shaking over the handle of the scalpel. You don’t know how close I came to going too far, to leaving scars, to holding you down and- And stop it Julian. Don’t you see this is what he wants? This is that darkness that he wants to bring to the front, that monster that he wants to seize you. This is the demon that he wants to turn you to._ But he wants it, God help him he wants it.

“Tell me Julian…” Julian. Not Jules. That’s right. He wants Julian to tell him what happened. He wants  _Julian_  to tell him how it felt when he-

“Do you know what I remember, Garak?” He can feel that darkness spilling into him even without it being summoned from some external trigger. “What I remember without your lies and your misdirection? I remember exactly what it is that you’re offering now,” He taunts, perversely titillated that such things are coming from  _him._  “You say that I can have you, on your knees, broken, begging, but I remember Garak… I remember that. That I’ve already had it.” And as he speaks those words, he has another memory of the night Garak is calling him to remember. 

    “Yes, yes I’ve already had you on your knees in front of me. You took it into your mouth. Your hands were on my thighs.” His mouth is dry, so dry, and he pants as that image assails his senses, of Garak’s eyes looking up at him, not with the glazed deadness of the conditioning, but with brilliant presence, with willing seduction. “You took it until it hit the back of your damn throat and you took it like it wasn’t the first time either.” Julian fires the heated words, not even needing to close his eyes to recall the feel of Garak’s mouth, of the scrape of his teeth. “Shall I tell you how hot your mouth was, Garak? Shall I tell you how that tongue felt sliding down my prick?” He swallows down nerves hard at that vulgarity, the blood pounding in his ears.  _God if anyone should come by… if anyone should hear you…_

    “Such language, my dear,” Garak admonishes with a mock gasp and it angers him to think that he’s still being made fun of.

“Shall I tell you,” he forces himself to continue, feeling the sweat starting to bead on his forehead as his voice raises. “How you swallowed it? How you swallowed every last drop and licked it off of your fingers. Is that what you want to hear?!”

“Is that what you want Julian?” Julian blinks fury away from his eyes, Garak still teasing him,  _still_  taunting him.

“It’s what already is, what already was, and you know it,” he growls, that sound morphing to a low throaty purr when he feels Garak’s fingers twist in his hair.

    “Like that? Is that what you imagined, holding my head just like that when you… violated my throat, you say?”

“You know damn well that’s what happened and you loved every second of it.”

“Did I?”

“Harder.” He feels that tug increase, feels that mouth move those maddening mouthings to his skin, making him scratch nails sharply to the glass, practically slamming his forehead to it. He doesn’t remember this happening before but there’s a bodily memory that swears it has. And as soon as he believes, he can remember something else, another scenario where Garak held him just like this and drove his cock so hard into him that even Julian’s strength couldn’t hold his place on the floor.

“I never imagined you liked to play so rough.”  _Yes, yes that’s exactly what you aid when you-_

“I’m going to break you.” Julian doesn’t know where that comes from even as he says it. It terrifies him. It excites him.

    “Like that?” Garak presses him flush to that glass, pressing the breath from his body, and there’s another flood of recollection, that motion triggering the images as he shuts his eyes tightly, brought back to that night, again feeling that impulse to use that forbidden command to call Garak back to his chambers for these last few precious hours.  _No, stop it, Julian, stop playing his game, stop letting him goad you, stop letting him bring that darkness back. You’re better than that, you’re better than Jules!_

“I didn’t mean that,” Julian rushes out.

“I think you meant every word, my dear Julian. And that’s exactly why, as you demanded to know before I do not “call him”. I do not need to call him because  _he_ , as we’ve established on several occasions now, has never left.”

“I’m not him. I’m  _nothing_  like him.”

                He expects some maniacal taunting laugh from some cliché old holonovel, but it doesn’t come.

“You’re beautiful,” Garak whispers, fingers teasing up, touching so covertly that dataport that he isn’t sure if it’s real or not as his body tenses anxiously.

“You have no idea,” Julian blurts out suddenly, “You’ve no idea what I… “ His voice drops, seeing when he closes his eyes Garak on his knees fervently licking the blood of his own wounds from Julian’s fingers.  _You’ve no idea that I’ve already broken you, Garak…_  He slaps a hand to the back of his neck as if swatting a fly. But Garak’s hands, his warmth, his everything, has deserted him. Julian whirls around for the second time that night in surprise. 

    The Promenade is still empty, Garak standing there in front of it all examining him like a uncut bolt of cloth at least a good few meters away.

“What if I told you, Julian,” he begins calmly, glib, but somehow dangerous, not a single hint of that earlier heat in his voice, “-that I know everything?” That simple question disrupts the nervous wipe of his palms to his pants and he swears his heart doesn’t beat for a good three counts.

“What?” Cold. That’s the first and only thing that lances through him, gripping him, that blood in his ears not hot but slowing hypothermic ice. He watches Garak take a few slow steps back watching him, that smile growing smaller with the rest of him. 

    Julian unfreezes his feet from the frozen tundra beneath him clay, rock idol nearly crumbling as he tries to lift them. 

“What did you say?” His voice is louder but not so loud as to echo throughout the entire Promenade. Even so that’s exactly what it seems to do. Garak maintains that same level amusement.

“All this time you consider how easily one can deceive manipulate the subconscious, command such base brutal acts. And yet you behave as if your own mind is immune from the same deception. Do you understand now, Coriolanus? Everything you remember, everything you dream between us that night; it never happened. Any of it.”

“You’re lying!”

“Of course. I’m always lying. Run along, my dear and take comfort in the knowledge that I will be absolute fine upon your heroic return. And as for your lovely young pieces in the game well... I promise not to break them beyond what you can repair.”

    And it’s not because Garak commanded it, it’s not because he’s suddenly, desperately afraid. But Julian flees nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a part of me that thought it would be interesting to actually write out the story of Leeta and Liz trying to off Garak while Julian is a way but there's no way that wouldn't descend into wacky hijinks and that really wouldn't gel with the tone of this thing. I may do it separately but I make no promises on that front. I really don't know if anyone would even want to see that.


End file.
